


catch a glimpse of the hollow world

by the24thkey writes (the24thkey)



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Video Game World, M/M, Murder Mystery, Saving the World, Supernatural Elements, The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known, Video Game Logic, implied background pairings if you squint really hard, persona 4 au, video game violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:20:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 30,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29720589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the24thkey/pseuds/the24thkey%20writes
Summary: In which reluctant video game protagonist Lee Minho moves to the countryside, solves a murder mystery, saves the day, and gains the power to face himself somewhere along the way.Or, a Persona 4 AU.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 13
Kudos: 18





	1. March

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to the fic that has completely taken over my brain for the last two years, ever since I came to the realization that My Pace era Jisung is basically the real life version of my favourite character from my favourite JRPG: Persona 4's [Hanamura Yosuke](https://www.google.com/search?q=hanamura+yosuke&client=firefox-b-d&sxsrf=ALeKk00AMjp6dCjBuj983T6_Ypu6b0kQjA:1614367199687&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwiQrOW7oojvAhVF6qQKHf-5CxwQ_AUoAXoECBQQAw&biw=1280&bih=588&dpr=1.5)
> 
> You don’t need to know anything about Persona 4 to read this fic (though it will make some things a lot funnier if you do). In some parts this is a very straight-forward adaptation, but in others I’ve completely changed the story and setting. The occasional line will be quoted directly from the game, mostly in the exposition.
> 
> While I have no fixed update schedule, this fic is already complete, I just need to edit it, so hopefully it won’t take me too long to post the next chapter.
> 
> Content notes! Nothing too graphic in here aside from some video game-esque violence, off-screen murder, people dealing with personal issues like self-worth etc., and maybe a tiny bit of body horror. If I’ve missed anything that should be warned for, please don’t hesitate to point it out to me.
> 
> Thanks to Julija for being my first audience, Bubbles for the casting help, Angel, Mina, Dell and everyone else on the tl who had to listen to me go on and on about #personaAU for the last two years, and the Promare OST for helping me power through half the fight scenes in this fic. The biggest thanks of all to idella, who has to go through all 100k of this monster to remove my many, many unnecessary commas and wrangle my words into something that makes sense. You’re a star. <3

Everything is dark, until it isn’t. Minho blinks at the door in front of him, his mind feeling foggy and as heavy as his body. It’s like he’s moving through liquid: the dull, distant sound of his own heartbeat the only thing he can hear. There’s an eerie blue light escaping from the gaps in the doorframe and looking at it for too long makes his eyes hurt, so he raises an arm to shield them.

That’s when he realizes his fingers are curled around an object, holding on tight. It’s a key, simple and old-fashioned. The metal is warm in his hand, and it almost seems like it’s pulsing. If it wasn’t so difficult to string together any thoughts at all, he’d probably be disturbed by that.

His legs move of their own accord, bringing him closer to the door, and then it seems natural to put in the key and turn and _push_ and—

“Welcome to the Velvet Room.”

Awareness rushes back into Minho and leaves him shaking, stumbling and barely able to remain standing. For a second, it seems like everything is spinning around him and he gasps, blindly reaching out for any sort of purchase to steady himself. Instead, he finds himself with someone’s sure, gentle grip on his shoulder, holding him still and upright.

“Easy there.”

Minho squeezes his eyes shut for a moment and when he feels somewhat less like keeling over, he opens them to focus on the man standing in front of him.

The first thing he notices is a shock of wild, white-blonde hair and a pair of unnervingly yellow eyes. Minho freezes, his stomach dropping. But then the man’s face breaks into a smile and Minho finds himself instantly relaxing.

“Alright, looks like you’re with me now. Sorry about that, it’s always a bit of a shock the first time.” Then the man cocks his head and huffs out a laugh, though Minho can’t figure out the joke for the life of him. “Or so I’ve been told.”

Minho is herded to a couch and pushed into it, sinking into the plush material. It’s dark blue and impossibly soft under his hands. He takes a moment to collect himself and then he looks around, still somewhat dazed. There's not much to see, barely any furniture, no windows, and everything seems to have a subtle blue glow to it that is going to give Minho a headache.

He startles when he catches sight of another person in the room, leaning against a big armchair. It's a boy, maybe Minho's age, and the colours of his hair and eyes are exactly the same as those of the man who's now taking a seat opposite Minho.

The boy grins when their eyes meet, and it's like his whole face lights up. Minho squints at him, suspicious.

The man in the armchair clears his throat and says, with an expansive, sweeping arm gesture, "Welcome to the Velvet Room."

"You already said that," Minho says on autopilot.

The boy snickers, but the man in the armchair seems unfazed.

"My name is Chris, and this is my attendant, Felix. We've been waiting for you, Lee Minho."

It should probably alarm him, the fact that these people he's never seen before know his name, but Minho is strangely calm about the entire thing. He just waits, unmoving, for Chris to go on.

“This place exists between dream and reality, mind and matter. It’s only accessible to those who have formed a certain kind of contract. Or maybe that is still in your future. Let’s find out, shall we?”

Chris pulls on a thin pair of white gloves, and then Felix hands him a deck of cards — not playing cards, they’re too big for that. They might be tarot cards, Minho thinks, leaning forward to observe the sure movements of Chris’s hands more closely.

He shuffles the deck with ease, splitting it into two equal parts and setting the cards down on the table in front of him. Then, with a quick, unreadable smile at Minho, he flips over the top card on one of the piles.

Felix lets out a low whistle, leaning in to look at the cards over Chris’s shoulder. Chris nods slowly in apparent agreement.

“What?” Minho asks. He turns his head a bit to try and look at the card, but Chris takes it and holds it up so he can see it clearly.

“The Tower, in the upright position,” he says, and Minho guesses the picture does look kind of like a tower. It’s being struck by lightning, part of it breaking off, and he feels unsettled just looking at it.

“This is your immediate future,” Chris continues. His voice is measured and calm even as he goes on to explain the card’s meaning. “A terrible catastrophe is imminent.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Minho mutters, eyes never leaving the card.

“Next, we will look into your future beyond that,” Chris says and flips over the top card of the other pile, once again picking it up to show Minho. “The Moon, again in the upright position. Hesitation and mystery. Very interesting.”

Placing both the Tower and the Moon back on the table, Chris studies them for a moment longer. He’s humming something under his breath, a short melody that Minho doesn’t recognize.

“Well,” he says at last, his eyes intense as he looks up at Minho. “It seems like you will encounter misfortune at your destination. A great mystery will be imposed upon you.”

“Imposed?” Minho echoes quietly. Chris’s smile turns rueful.

“I’m afraid you won’t have much of a choice in the matter. The coming year is a turning point in your destiny, and if the mystery goes unsolved your future may be forever lost.”

Minho twitches, his eyebrows furrowing. Even through the curious haze of _something_ that seems to be numbing his emotions, he can feel himself getting irritated.

“I don’t think I like where this is going,” he says.

Felix is the one who picks the cards back up from the table, folding them back together into one neat stack, and with a wink at Minho and a flick of his hand, they’re gone.

“Don’t worry,” Chris says, leaning back in the armchair and crossing his legs, hands folded neatly over his knee. “My duty is to provide guidance to my guests, to ensure that the worst does not come to pass. Trust me. We’ll get you through this.”

And the thing is, Minho does trust him. He doesn’t know why, and maybe he shouldn’t, but he does. He nods, ever so slightly.

“Wonderful,” Chris says softly, and the world around Minho starts to dissolve until nothing is left but deep, velvety blue and two pairs of yellow eyes. “You will enter a contract soon, and then you will return. Farewell, Lee Minho.”

Minho jerks awake when his stop is announced, banging his head on the train window and cursing under his breath.

A quick look around assures him that nobody has seen him embarrass himself; he's almost alone in the compartment. It's not surprising, Minho thinks with an abundance of bitterness. Who even wants to go to this middle of nowhere town in the first place.

The train slows down then, and Minho grabs his bag. Most of his things have been shipped to his cousin's place already, so at least he doesn't have to lug all his bundles around by himself.

As he goes to stand by the door and stare out at their surroundings, his mouth twists at the sight of a thick fog covering the landscape. It had been clear and bright in Seoul, and sunny still when he transferred trains.

He looks in his bag for a mask, but realizes with extreme annoyance that he must have left it at home. Whatever. He can just go buy a new one.

When the train comes to a complete stop and the doors open with a hiss, Minho takes a deep breath and steps out. Time to see his new home for the next year.

He almost wants to turn around and get back on the train when the cold hits him, biting and even worse than back in Seoul. Shuddering, he hurries from the tracks to the tiny station building. Someone bumps into him on his way through the door, almost making him drop his bag, and by the time he’s got it secured again and turns to apologize, the stranger is already gone.

“Rude,” he says under his breath, pulling the door closed behind him.

It’s not that much warmer inside the station building than it is outside, to be honest, but at least there’s no fog. He pulls out his phone to check when Sohee will be here to pick him up, but then a voice calls out to him. “Minho-hyung!”

Minho looks up in surprise to see a familiar-looking boy jogging up to him, and it takes him a moment, but then he recognizes Sohee’s brother, much older than the last and only time the two of them had met in person. But it’s been almost ten years, so that really shouldn’t come as a shock.

“Seungmin?” Minho asks, as his cousin comes to a stop next to him.

“Welcome to town,” Seungmin says, tugging his giant scarf down so Minho can see his face properly. “Sohee-noona says sorry that she can’t come, but she’s busy at work. So I’m here instead.”

“Alright,” Minho says, blinking slowly. “Nice to see you. It’s been ages.”

Seungmin smiles. “Yeah, it really has been. Come on, let’s get going. It’s freezing today,”

Minho follows him out of the station and looks around for a bus stop, but Seungmin is already pulling at his arm. “This way, hyung. It’s only a fifteen minute walk.”

Minho’s face falls. “Walk?” he asks, incredulous. Seungmin just laughs and drags him along.

By the time they make it to Sohee and Seungmin’s place, Minho feels like he’s lost at least half of his toes and is definitely regretting his forgotten mask. His lungs are probably frozen now.

Seungmin ushers him inside, and once they’ve taken off their shoes and shed their layers of coats he orders Minho to go sit down in the living room while he goes to make tea.

Minho does as he’s told, rubbing his hands together and looking around the small but surprisingly modern room. He doesn’t really know what he expected, but this isn’t all that different from Minho’s family’s apartment back home. Even from the outside the house looked nicer than its neighbours. Maybe his aunt and uncle had had it renovated before they let their children move in.

There’s a picture on the wall with the four of them on it, and Minho grimaces at the overwhelming awkwardness of it. His aunt and uncle, impeccably dressed, looking at the camera like it personally offended them. Sohee, in her police academy uniform and her back ramrod straight, expression tight whereas Minho usually associates her with warm smiles. Seungmin, much smaller than he is now, a sulky kid if he’s ever seen one.

He doesn’t know the full story, only what he overheard when his own parents were talking. Sohee’s decision to become an officer instead of joining the company as had been expected of her since she had been young had created a rift in their family. And then she had even applied for a job back in the small, sleepy home town they’d long abandoned for the big city.

Minho doesn’t know how Seungmin had ended up going back with his sister, but their parents, much like Minho’s own nowadays, spend a lot of time away on business. Maybe that’s why.

Either way, it’s been years now since they’d moved, and Minho only ever sees Sohee when she's on one of her rare trips to Seoul. Seungmin had always stayed home during those, probably because of school.

“Tea’s ready,” Seungmin says behind him, and Minho turns his back on the photograph at last, feeling weirdly guilty. It’s none of his business, really.

“Thank you,” he says, and accepts the cup Seungmin hands him gratefully.

They sip their too-hot tea in silence for a minute, not familiar enough with each other for in-depth conversation and already out of most basic small talk after their walk here.

"Are your parents already on their way to the US?" Seungmin finally asks.

Minho nods. "They texted me when they got on their flight. Shouldn't be much longer now."

"And you didn't want to go with them?"

Minho pulls a face. "Not really. My English isn't all that good and I only have one year of high school left. I just want to get it over with. If they'd let me I would have stayed at home and gone to my old high school. It's not like I can't take care of myself."

His words sound bitter, more so than he'd planned on revealing. Seungmin of all people shouldn't have to listen to his whining about people making life-changing decisions for him.

Minho can’t help but feel frustrated, though. Coming here was a better option than going to the US, but it still meant leaving behind his friends, his dance school, and his entire life on short notice. He doesn’t want to resent his parents, not when they’ve always done their best to give him all the support and resources he could possibly need, but part of him still feels betrayed.

“It’s not so bad here.” Seungmin’s tone is casual, but he’s not looking at Minho as he says it. “Maybe not as convenient as Seoul, but I’ve grown to like it. Noona and I have made our home here. Maybe you can, too.”

Minho thinks about Seungmin as he remembers him: a small, quiet kid that let Minho, older and much more assertive, boss him around without complaint. He likes the idea of that kid growing up out here, finding his place in the world.

“Yeah,” Minho says, the sliver of a smile on his lips. “I hope so.”

By the time Sohee finally comes home that night, Minho and Seungmin have long since prepared, eaten and cleaned up after dinner. Seungmin is a good cook, but something tells Minho that it’s more out of necessity than anything.

Sohee's smile is tired but warm as she fusses over Minho, making the kind of nonsense observations he’d usually expect from older relatives like his grandma.

“Look at you!” she coos, holding Minho by his shoulders and giving him a thorough once-over. “It’s so good to see you. You really grew up handsome, didn’t you! And when did you get taller than me?”

Minho is pretty sure he’s been taller than his cousin since he hit his growth spurt at 14, but he doesn’t mind indulging her. Seungmin seems more embarrassed by this display than Minho is, in any case.

“Noona,” Seungmin says with a heavy sigh, pulling out the leftovers to heat up for his sister. “You sound so old when you say stuff like that.”

“Oh, shush,” Sohee says, sharing an amused look with Minho. “Come on, sit down with me. Did you get here okay?”

“Yeah, no delays,” Minho says, taking a seat next to her. Seungmin joins them a minute later, handing Sohee her dinner.

“Thank you.” Sohee reaches out to ruffle Seungmin’s hair and Seungmin whines, ducking out of the way. Minho does his best to suppress a laugh. Even from this short interaction he gets a sense of how comfortable they are with each other. It’s nice.

“Your boxes arrived last night,” Sohee says in between bites. “Just look through them to see if everything’s there. We can go shopping tomorrow if you need anything, or you can stop by the supermarket on the way back from school if you don’t want to wait for me to get off work.”

Minho doesn't think he has it in him to unpack everything tonight, but he nods anyway.

"I went to the school last week to sort out your paperwork, so hopefully that will all be in order. Still, you should go to the front office first thing in the morning."

"I will," Minho says.

He's not really looking forward to being the new guy at school. In a town like this, everyone knows everyone, and the rest of his future third year classmates have probably all been together since elementary school.

It's a feeling he keeps to himself, however, focusing instead on catching up with Sohee while she eats her dinner.

It really has been a while since they've seen each other, maybe over a year by now. Minho's parents adore Sohee, and she never fails to visit them when she can, but she doesn't make the trip to Seoul all that often. Minho wonders, sometimes, if it's because she wants to avoid her own parents.

Sohee does ask about Minho's parents' travels, but aside from that they mostly talk about the logistics of Minho's transfer and the town. Safer topics, Minho thinks, until Sohee gets a troubled look on her face.

“Usually this is a quiet place, but there’s been a string of murders lately,” she says, her mouth twisting as she stares out the window. “So I want you to be careful.”

It takes a moment before she tears her gaze away from the darkness outside. When she focuses on Minho instead, she looks a bit sheepish.

“I know it’s not really my place to tell you what to do. You’re old enough. But I would feel better if you didn’t run off on your own or stayed out too late.”

Telling Minho not to do something is usually a surefire way to get him to do just that, but he can tell that Sohee is seriously worried. His cousin already looks stressed and worn out. He doesn’t want to add to that.

“I won’t,” Minho says quietly, and Sohee gives him a grateful smile.

“Seungmin will walk you to school tomorrow and show you around,” she says.

Seungmin, who’s kept quiet so far, nods quickly.

“I’ve given Minho-hyung a tour of the house already, and he has his uniform for tomorrow and everything,” he says, grabbing Sohee’s empty plate and chopsticks. “You should go get some sleep.”

Sohee looks after Seungmin with something like resignation. But all she says is, “Thank you, Seungmin-ah.”

She gets up with a sigh and pats Minho’s shoulder. “I know this whole situation isn’t ideal, but I hope this will be a good final year of high school for you.”

“Thank you,” Minho says, and it’s genuine. “I’m really grateful that you’re letting me stay here. I’ll try not to get in your way too much.”

“No need for that.” Sohee shakes her head. “Just make yourself at home, alright? I’ll see you tomorrow.”

With that, she leaves for the second floor. The silence left in her wake is awkward, Minho sitting uselessly at the kitchen table while Seungmin does the last of the dishes without another word but with a lot of noise.

Minho wonders if maybe he should ask Seungmin if he’s okay. But even though they’re related, they barely know each other. There are family dynamics at play here that Minho isn’t used to, and he feels a bit like an intruder.

As it turns out, all he has to do is wait. Seungmin turns around after rinsing the last plate and setting it aside, leaning back against the counter with a heavy sigh.

“Noona has to work late a lot,” he says, sounding tired himself. “But ever since these murders started it’s even worse than usual. At this rate she’s just going to collapse, and what is her boss going to do then?”

"Has this been going on for long?" Minho asks.

Seungmin shakes his head. "Not really. Maybe two months now? But there's been 3 victims already, and I think someone else just went missing. Not that noona will tell me about any of it."

Seungmin sounds bitter, just a bit.

"Well, it's not like she can just tell you about ongoing investigations, right?" Minho reasons, because he's watched his fair share of crime dramas, and he thinks there are rules about that kind of thing.

"I guess," Seungmin mutters, unrepentant, and Minho bites back a laugh at that.

"Anyway," Seungmin says, pushing himself off the counter. "It's getting late and we need to get up early tomorrow. Let's call it a night."

Minho agrees with a stifled yawn, exhaustion settling heavy in his limbs, and by the time he makes it to his room he can barely keep his eyes open. He crawls into his bed, draws the covers up to his chin, and then he's out like a light.

The darkness fades slowly this time, like it's clinging onto him. It's difficult to make out his surroundings, but he doesn't feel afraid. His steps are sure on what seems to be a wooden floor. He walks and walks through the fog for what feels like ages, but he doesn't get tired, and when something tells him he should stop, he does.

He doesn't have to wait long.

With a gust of wind almost strong enough to sweep him off his feet, the fog clears. And then the Persona is just kind of there, like it blinked into existence from one moment to the next.

It's huge, floating in the air and just looking at Minho. He should probably be scared. He should be wondering how he knows that this is a Persona, and not some kind of monster. But he doesn't.

Nor does he question why there's suddenly swords in his hands, the kind they use for sword dancing: straight and double edged and with tassels tied to the hilt. He's never held a sword, not even a fake one, but his grip is sure and his movements graceful as he raises the swords into position.

Fighting, Minho thinks with a curious sense of detachment, is a lot like dancing. There's a rhythm to it, something beautiful. He strikes and feints and parries and spins out of the way of lightning bolts, electricity crackling all around them, painting white-hot lines on billowing grey clouds.

He can feel it when the end of battle is near, an overwhelming certainty that all that's left to do is take his swords and plunge them deep into the Persona's chest.

The effect is instant — once again there's a gust of wind so strong that Minho has to cling onto the handles of his swords with a death grip or risk being blown away, and a burst of light that should be blinding, but somehow isn't.

As the fog and clouds clear around them, revealing the reds and pinks of an early morning sunrise, Minho's eyes stay locked on the Persona's. There's a voice in his head, or maybe it's all around him, deep and deliberate, each word carrying the weight of purpose.

_I Am Thou._

_Thou Art I._

With a start, Minho wakes up.

On the first day of school, Seungmin leaves him with directions to the front office and apologies about not being able to join him for lunch this first week because of club duties, but Minho just waves him off. He'll be fine. He's tired anyway, wrung-out from his weird dream last night, and if he makes it to noon he'll probably just find a quiet place to crash.

He keeps having to blink sleep out of his eyes throughout his conversation with his homeroom teacher, Ms. Im, but if anything she seems amused by it.

Ms. Im thankfully doesn't make him introduce himself in front of the whole class like he'd feared, but he does enter the classroom alongside her. He can feel the curious looks of a couple dozen students on him throughout the entire first hour of class, and his new uniform is stiff; not yet worn in. Altogether it makes for a rather uncomfortable start.

Once their first break comes around Minho manages to plaster a strained smile on his face at the handful of people that come up to introduce themselves, answering their questions and trying to commit their names to memory even as he realizes it's futile. He'll remember them in time, hopefully.

Minho tends to think of himself as a pretty confident kind of guy but between the new environment and the emotional drain of moving away from home and his parents, he's not really in top form.

Unconsciously, his gaze keeps flicking away to take in the room full of unfamiliar faces, until one in particular catches his attention.

There’s a guy sprawled sideways on his chair in the second row and while the rest of their class is spread around talking to each other, everyone seems to give him a wide berth. His face is sharp, his expression dark, and Minho can hear the heavy bass from the guy’s headphones even where he’s sitting a good distance away.

Something about him draws Minho’s attention like no one else in the room. It might just be that he envies the guy his personal space, considering the cluster of people still crowding him, chattering away about the school and the town and more things they think Minho absolutely needs to know right now.

He doesn’t want to sound like an asshole, it’s really nice of everyone to welcome him like this, but he’s tired and overwhelmed and would really just like some peace and quiet.

“Dude, stop staring at Changbin,” a guy standing next to his desk hisses, and Minho glances up at him for a second.

“Who?”

“Seo Changbin. Over there,” the guy (Juyeon, Minho thinks) says, and the rest of the people around them titter nervously. “He’s bad news.”

“Even the teachers are scared of him,” a girl says, and another one chimes in with, “I heard he beat up five guys from this other high school and didn’t get a single scratch on him.”

“Oh?” Minho says, amused at what are clearly rumors spun wildly out of control. Intrigued, he looks back at Seo Changbin, and as if he heard him over the loud music blaring from his headphones, Seo Changbin looks right back at him. His glare is impressive, but instead of backing down, Minho does what he does best.

He raises an eyebrow. He smirks. And then he winks.

The change in Changbin’s expression is instant and hilarious — his face just goes kind of slack, his eyes wide, and Minho is pretty sure he can see a flush on the guy’s cheeks.

Delighted, and with his mood suddenly improved, Minho returns his attention to the conversation still going on around him. Maybe this isn't as bad a start as he'd feared.

When lunch time comes around, Minho can already see a couple of people circling to approach him again, and for a moment he considers his options. He's really not up for more group question time, but spending break alone would be boring. He supposes he could go find Seungmin and force him to spend time together out of familial obligation despite his club schedule, but Minho's not that mean. Well, not all of the time, anyway.

A thought strikes him when his gaze catches on a pair of big, black headphones towards the front of the classroom. Minho blinks a couple of times, contemplating, before he gets up.

Is this a stupid idea? Probably. Is Minho going to do it anyway? Hell yeah.

"Hey," Minho says, leaning against Seo Changbin's desk. Out of the corner of his eye he can see a group of his new classmates gaping at him. Changbin himself isn't doing much better, clearly confused as to why Minho is talking to him.

He looks around a bit, furtively, like he thinks Minho might be addressing someone else, and then he says, "What?"

Minho smiles his best, most winning smile, and introduces himself. "Lee Minho. I just transferred here."

"I know," Changbin says slowly, and now he's looking less confused and more suspicious. Minho doesn't let it deter him.

"And you are?"

"Seo Changbin."

Minho waits to see if he's going to say anything else, but he doesn't, so they end up just kind of staring at each other until Minho breaks the silence.

"Okay then, Seo Changbin," he says, "Let's have lunch together."

Minho thinks he can actually hear someone squeak in the background, but he doesn't let it distract him. Changbin opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, searching for words.

"Why?" he says eventually. It comes out uneasy, kind of like Changbin is trying to figure out if Minho is playing a trick on him, and that has Minho dropping the overly shiny smile, opting instead to let something more genuine shine through.

"I don't know, you seem chill," he says, shrugging. "And like you're not going to ask me a million questions about moving. Not really up for that today, I'm kinda beat."

He sighs and rolls his shoulders. Changbin eyes him a moment longer, but then he nods.

"Okay, sure," he says, "I know a spot that not many people pass by."

"Perfect," Minho declares, standing up straight and waiting for Changbin to grab his bag before they head out of the classroom.

The silence between them is a bit awkward, but then Minho asks, "What were you listening to earlier?" and Changbin perks up instantly, telling him about a new underground rapper he's discovered lately.

Minho is really more of a ballad kind of guy, but even if his knowledge of hip hop is limited to what he's danced to in the past, it's interesting to listen to Changbin talk. He's clearly passionate about the topic, and for someone who looks so closed off, he's turning out to be rather talkative.

"Sorry," Changbin says suddenly, interrupting his train of thought and rubbing the back of his neck. "You said you were looking for some peace and quiet, and here I am, talking your ear off."

Minho shakes his head. "It's cool, I don't mind."

Changbin doesn't seem entirely convinced, but he lets it go as he drops his bag on the ground.

They've made their way to the top of a deserted staircase, one that looks like it leads out to the rooftop. There's plenty of space on the landing, and a handful of old chairs scattered around a desk covered in sharpie scribbles.

Minho wonders why the school hasn't thrown the chairs out, especially in between terms, but when he says as much, Changbin just shrugs.

"We have an in with the school staff," he says, dropping into one of the chairs and pulling out his lunch.

"We?" Minho asks.

"Ah, me and a couple friends. They're second years, and they're busy today. I can introduce you sometime this week, maybe? I mean, only if you want to, you don't have to hang with us, obviously. But, yeah. If you want," he trails off awkwardly.

"Sure," Minho says easily, digging into his own lunch. Seungmin will probably appreciate not having to entertain him, and besides, he's curious to see Changbin's friends, because the guy seems more like a loner. But maybe that's just the impression he got from the gossip earlier.

"Our classmates seem to be afraid of you," Minho muses, not really thinking about what he's saying until Changbin's face falls. He freezes, unsure what to say as Changbin sinks in on himself, shoving half a triangle kimbap into his mouth and chewing furiously.

"Yeah, well," he mumbles eventually, not meeting Minho's eyes. "I guess I just have a scary face."

"I don't know, you seem alright to me," Minho blurts out, and then immediately regrets it, because that was embarrassing.

"Anyway, you live close to school?" he throws in, which isn't much better, because of course Changbin does. This town is tiny, everyone lives nearby.

Still, Changbin rolls with it, and then they thankfully move on to safer topics, like age (Changbin is a year younger than Minho) and family (he lives with his parents and his older sister) and hobbies (Changbin is into music production, which honestly sounds very impressive).

With Minho's blunder forgotten, the conversation flows easily, and before they know it, it's time to return to their classroom.

"Thanks for, y'know. Letting me join you," Minho says as they pack up their things, and unlike his earlier gruff expression, Changbin's smile is bright as he replies.

"Sure thing, hyung. No problem."

"How was school?" Sohee asks late that night, when she finally comes home from work.

Minho just shrugs and says, "Good."

He feels about as exhausted as Sohee looks, but more than anything he's relieved to have it over with. Their teachers seem decent, and there are already a couple classmates Minho thinks he can get along well with. Changbin, of course, and this girl Dahyun who struck up a conversation with him when they were sent to retrieve something for Ms. Im.

After a moment, Minho notices that Sohee is still looking at him with something like amusement, and he quickly shakes himself out of his thoughts.

"Sorry, today was kind of a lot," he says, running a hand through his hair.

"That's okay," Sohee says, "I'm sure you'll get used to it soon enough. You should hurry up and go to bed, yeah? You didn't have to wait up for me."

Minho still being awake has less to do with waiting for his cousin and more with apprehension about weird dreams, but he keeps that to himself.

"Can they really make you work this late?" he asks instead, and Sohee sighs.

"It's a small department, so we don't really have a choice. We need all hands on deck to search for—" she catches himself before he says anything else, looking a bit embarrassed about the slip. "Ah, nevermind. In any case, I won't stay up much longer. You should go ahead and get some rest."

Something is going on at the police station, that much is clear. Minho wonders what Sohee was going to say, but in the end his own exhaustion outweighs his curiosity.

"Good night, noona," he says, suppressing a yawn, and Sohee waves him off with a smile.

Minho falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow, and for once, there are no strange dreams to disturb his rest.

Minho gets his introduction to Changbin's friends sooner than expected. The very next day, they're on their way to the vending machines downstairs in between classes when a voice behind them calls out, “Changbinnie-hyung!” and Changbin turns to greet two boys running up to him.

“Yo,” he says and gives them a lazy wave. “Jisung, did you dye your hair again?”

Minho assumes he means the guy with puffy cheeks and bright orange hair (and seriously, isn’t that against school rules?), but before he can really give that one a proper once-over, his attention is drawn to the second boy, because—

“Felix, hi,” Changbin says, and Minho is sure his eyes must be popping out of his head, because what the actual fuck?

Felix, the boy from his strange dream, is standing right in front of him. The name, the face, it’s all so familiar — except his eyes aren’t yellow, and his hair is a much darker blond. And when Felix looks at him, there’s no recognition on his face, just a polite smile.

“Sunbaenim, good morning.”

“Uh,” Minho says, very eloquently. “Yeah. Hi.”

“These are Han Jisung and Lee Felix,” Changbin introduces them dutifully. “They’re both in second year. Guys, this is Minho-hyung. He’s in my class.”

Orange hair guy — _Jisung_ , Minho tries his best to remember — gasps dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. “Binnie-hyung,” he says, very loudly, “You made a friend?”

“Shut up!” Changbin hisses, and his face goes really red. If Minho weren’t so distracted by the presence of Felix and all the implications that come with it, he’d probably find it very funny.

If Felix is real, does that mean the Velvet Room is also real? He thought it was just a really vivid dream, brought on by the stress of moving to an unfamiliar place. Maybe he’s seen Felix’s face somewhere before, saw him on the train or something, and then his subconscious had incorporated him into the dream. That must be it. Right?

"Felix is part of the dance club," Changin says, ignorant of Minho’s state of confusion. "You said you used to dance back in Seoul, right?"

That definitely draws Minho's attention. He didn't even know this school had a dance club, he'd just kind of assumed he'd be stuck practicing by himself.

Felix gasps, excitement lighting up his face as he turns to Minho, grasping his hands and stepping in close in a shocking disregard for personal space.

"Do you want to join us?"

His eyes sparkle so much, Minho could swear there are stars in them.

"Uh, sure," Minho says, because he loves dancing above all else, but also because he isn't sure he could say no to this kid even if he wanted to.

"Yes!" Felix says, jumping in place in his excitement. “Half our club just graduated, so we could really use new members. How long have you been dancing? Did you take classes? What styles are you into? We mostly do hip hop, but we have a couple people who do breakdancing and modern dance, too—”

“Felix, slow down,” Changbin says, pulling him back a bit until he lets go of a rather alarmed Minho. “Don’t overwhelm the poor guy.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Felix says sheepishly, while Jisung just laughs behind him.

“Don’t mind our Felix, sunbaenim,” he says, throwing an arm around Felix’s shoulders. “He’s just very excitable.”

“It’s cool,” Minho says, still a bit stunned. “I don’t mind. And I’d love to join you, really. Where do you meet?”

Felix perks up again, but Changbin stops him before he can say anything.

“Break is almost over, so we should really get going. You can tell Minho-hyung all about it during lunch, alright? Or I’ll give him your kakao id.”

“Okay,” Felix says, apparently satisfied with that solution. “Nice to meet you, sunbaenim!”

“Likewise,” Minho says, but then Felix is already being dragged away by Jisung, who gives Minho a parting salute and an easy grin.

“See ya, sunbaenim!”

Minho doesn't get much time to think about the mystery of Felix, in the end.

They’re 15 minutes away from the end of their third class of the day when the PA system chimes, drawing everyone’s attention and interrupting Mr. Park in the middle of his sentence. He looks annoyed at first, but when the announcement comes through his expression turns dead serious.

“There has been an incident in the school district,” a voice filters through the speaker, presumably one of the secretaries. “All members of the staff please assemble in the teacher’s office immediately. Students must stay in their classrooms. Do not leave the school until further notice. Thank you.”

There’s already a storm of whispers by the time the second chime signals the end of the announcement, and Mr. Park has to raise his voice to be heard over the din.

“Class president, you’re in charge,” he says, and Hongjoong, freshly elected, snaps to attention.

The whispers explode into loud speculation the moment Mr. Park closes the door behind him, but everyone remains calm for the most part. Minho slips out of his seat and wanders over to Changbin, leaning against his desk.

“What’s that about?” he asks quietly, but Changbin just shrugs.

“I don’t know. But it’s pretty weird for them to call in all the teachers like that. Couldn’t they just wait until break?”

Before Minho can reply, he’s distracted by a girl over by the window gasping loudly and calling out to her friends. “Look, isn’t that a police car?”

A couple people join her, crowding together to peer outside.

“I can’t see anything with this stupid fog,” one of them complains, and it doesn’t seem like anyone else is having more luck.

“It’s been like this every time it rains lately, hasn’t it?” someone else says, but Minho is only half-listening at that point. He feels something like worry gnawing at him. He thinks of Sohee, and for a brief moment he wonders if he should text her. But no, if she’s working she doesn’t need any unnecessary distractions.

They end up waiting in uneasy silence, but it doesn't take more than half an hour for the second announcement to be broadcast.

"There has been an incident in the school district," the same voice as before repeats. "Police have been dispatched to the area. Classes have been canceled for the rest of the day. All students please contact your parents or guardians and head straight home without delay. Do not disturb the officers."

Once the chime rings out, the class explodes into a flurry of excitement once again, speculating wildly about what could have possibly happened.

Changbin looks alarmed, gathering his things and pulling out his phone.

“Are you alright to get home?” he asks, and Minho is pleasantly surprised by his concern but waves him off.

“I’m good,” he says, “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Minho wanders off to his own desk once they’ve said their good-byes, packing up his books and slinging his backpack over one shoulder as he leaves the classroom along with everyone else.

He decides once again not to bother Sohee — clearly she of all people would know that something happened to cancel classes — and figures he should call Seungmin instead. But before he can even unearth his phone from his bag, he sees Seungmin waiting for him at the exit, face drawn.

"Hey," Minho says once he reaches him. "Let's go?"

"Yeah," Seungmin says grimly.

They don't really talk much as they head out, turning in the direction of home once they pass the school gates. The heavy fog still hovering over the town makes everything seem muted, dreamlike.

Suddenly, however, a voice calls out from behind them, breaking the silence.

“Seungmin, hey!”

Minho is surprised to recognize the voice as that of Jisung, Changbin’s second year friend.

They both turn to watch him come jogging down the street after them, waving at Seungmin.

“Hey, are you—” Jisung starts when he catches up to them, but then he does a double-take at Minho. “Oh, Minho-sunbaenim, right? Didn’t see you there. You guys know each other?”

Seungmin looks back and forth between Minho and Jisung with his eyebrows raised.

“We're cousins,” he says. “He’s staying with us for the year. I didn’t realize _you_ knew him.”

The way Seungmin talks to Jisung is weirdly restrained, colder than Minho would have expected, but Jisung either doesn’t notice or he doesn’t care.

“Changbinnie-hyung introduced us earlier,” he explains, and then turns to Minho. “I knew you were a transfer student, but I didn’t realize you had ties in town! Oh, Seungmin and I are in the same class, have been since middle school. Felix, too!”

“Yes, among other people,” Seungmin says dryly, but Minho isn't really paying enough attention to notice the snipe. Jisung is grinning at him, wide and unrestrained, and his eyes are really bright, and it’s altogether very distracting.

"Let's walk together, Felix ditched me," Jisung says, not sounding particularly upset about it.

Minho glances at Seungmin to gauge his reaction, but he doesn't seem to mind. The three of them fall into step, making their way further down the street while Jisung takes charge of making small talk, asking Minho about his transfer and how he’s liking the town.

“Can’t really tell yet,” Minho answers honestly. “I haven’t seen much aside from school. But it’s a bit of an adjustment, compared to back home.“

"Oh man, I bet,” Jisung says. “I actually used to live in Incheon when I was a kid. But we moved here towards the end of my final year of elementary school, so it's been a while. My big brother moved back to Seoul once he graduated, though, and I guess I might do the same."

“Not much to do out here?” Minho guesses, and Jisung shrugs.

“Not the kind of work I wanna do.”

His teeth chatter as he says it, and he rubs his bare hands together to try and generate some warmth.

“Why aren’t you wearing gloves? Don’t tell me you lost them again,” Seungmin pipes up, and for all that he sounds annoyed, Minho thinks he can sense some genuine concern in that question. It’s somewhat at odds with how distant Seungmin is acting, and it leaves Minho wondering just what the deal is between those two.

“I just left them at home,” Jisung protests. “I didn’t think it would be this cold today.”

“It’s even worse out here than it is in Seoul,” Minho mutters. “I thought for sure there’d be snow today.”

“It’s actually supposed to rain for most of the week,” Seungmin says, which is not helpful.

Jisung lights up at his words though, clapping his hands together and grinning at them. “Hey, have you heard about the Midnight Channel?”

Minho frowns, confused at the apparent change in topic, but Seungmin seems at least vaguely familiar with whatever Jisung is talking about.

“That soulmate stuff?” he asks, voice dripping with judgment. "Really?"

"What, it's not like I believe in it," Jisung protests. "But some girl from class C swears she saw Mr. Lee on there. The young one, not the one who teaches history."

"Yeah, right," Seungmin says, rolling his eyes.

"What's the Midnight Channel?" Minho asks, tired of following conversations he lacks context for.

"It's just a stupid rumour," Seungmin says, but that doesn't stop Jisung from launching into story mode, lowering his voice to sound more mysterious.

"On dark, rainy nights, when the clock strikes midnight," he says, his eyes glinting, "You have to look at a TV that's turned off, and if you do? It will reveal your soulmate to you."

Minho blinks a couple of times. "Right."

Seungmin snickers at his unimpressed tone, and Jisung deflates a bit.

"You guys are no fun," he complains. "Come on, the next time it rains we can all do it, and then we'll see for ourselves."

"I thought you said you didn't believe in it," Seungmin says, and Jisung full-on pouts, turning big eyes on Minho.

"Sunbaenim," he whines, but they never find out what his next words would have been, because that's when they turn the corner and see the police line.

There's a number of bystanders loitering in the area despite the weather, whispering and craning their necks.

"They already took the body down," one of them says, sounding disappointed.

A chill runs down Minho's back when he hears it, and Seungmin stiffens beside him.

"Another one?" Jisung says softly, pushing towards the front of the small crowd. Two ladies with shopping bags give him nasty looks when he squeezes in between them, and when they step aside, it opens up Minho's view of the scene past the police tape.

There's a number of police officers in uniform moving around, but Minho's eyes are instantly drawn to Sohee, standing still in the middle of it all. There's another woman next to her, and they seem to be in the middle of a discussion when Sohee glances over the crowd, and her eyes widen as she catches sight of Minho. Or rather, Seungmin.

Sohee says something to the other woman, and then she's moving, taking long strides towards them.

Minho would have never thought of her as imposing, but right now, the stormy expression on her face enough to make several of the people loitering step aside in a hurry as she ducks under the tape, he finds himself reminded that she could kick his ass any day of the week, and he unconsciously shrinks back a bit when she comes to a stop in front of them.

"Seungmin," she snaps, "What are you doing here?"

Seungmin seems frozen, not a word crossing his lips, and in the end it's Jisung who answers, suddenly popping up next to Minho again.

"Noona, hi," he says quickly, and Sohee startles at his sudden appearance. "We were just walking home. They canceled classes, there was an announcement. Didn't they tell the police?"

"I— No," Sohee says. "Why didn't you call me?"

"Seungminnie probably didn't want to disturb you, right? Right," Jisung says, getting a quick nod from Seungmin. "And it's not like he's alone, the two of us are with him," he adds, gesturing between Minho and himself.

"Right," Sohee says, finding her composure, shoulders no longer drawn up tight.

Minho throws Jisung a calculating look. It seems like he has practice talking himself out of trouble. It also seems like he's comfortably familiar with Sohee. Minho supposes they must know each other through Seungmin.

“What happened?” Seungmin asks, finally speaking up, but Sohee just shakes her head.

“Please just head on home,” she says, already distracted again by whatever is happening behind the yellow tape — the woman she was talking to earlier is looking in their direction, arms crossed and a frown on her face. “This is an active crime scene, and we already have our hands full with all these onlookers. Don’t be like them, alright?”

“Okay,” Seungmin says quietly. “Sorry.”

Sohee sighs, reaching out to touch a hand to Seungmin’s cheek.

“I really need to get back to work. Don’t wait up for me, who knows how long this is going to take us. I’ll just get some take-out. Jeongyeon owes me dinner anyway.”

With that and a nod Minho and Jisung’s way, Sohee turns and jogs back over to the police line.

Minho stares after her for a moment, and Seungmin seems rooted to the spot, so it falls to Jisung to get them moving.

“Let’s go,” he says, sounding subdued. “If we stay here any longer I really am going to freeze to death.”

Minho nods, and Seungmin seems hesitant, but the three of them start walking along the wet pavement again anyway, none of them saying a word until it’s time to part ways.

It's only later, when he and Seungmin are at home with the television running in the background while they clean up after dinner, that they find out what exactly happened.

Both of them stop in their tracks to listen to the newscaster, soap suds dripping down Minho's arms. He wipes at them absentmindedly.

Police are asking for information regarding the disappearance and subsequent death of a teacher at a local high school and even if Minho has never seen the man whose picture they show on screen before in his life, he can guess what’s going on.

Seungmin confirms it when he sets down the bowl in his hands with a sharp clink and moves closer to the TV, eyebrows drawn together. “That’s Mr. Lee,” he says, more to himself than to Minho. “I had no idea he was missing. Did the school keep it quiet?”

To Minho’s alarm, he seems a bit shaky, and Minho has no idea how to deal with that.

“You knew him?” he asks carefully, but Seungmin doesn’t even look at him when he answers.

“Yeah, he’s...he was our PE teacher last year. I don’t...I don’t understand how—”

He cuts himself off abruptly, shaking his head. There’s an expression on his face that’s difficult to look at, and right in this moment Minho feels maddeningly, frustratingly useless.

“I’m sorry hyung, I think I’m gonna go to my room. Is that—”

“Yeah, sure,” Minho hurries to say. “I’ll finish up here.”

“Thanks,” Seungmin chokes out, and then he’s out of the room in an instant, his footsteps on the stairs barely audible over the sound of the TV.

Minho hurries to turn it off, cursing to himself in the sudden silence that follows. He feels weirdly affected and unaffected at the same time, because he doesn’t know the victim, but is still connected to him in a way. It already has him dreading school tomorrow.

Minho sighs. “No use worrying about it now,” he says into the silence of the empty room, and goes back to washing the dishes.

With everything that happened that day, Minho almost forgets about the conversation he had with Seungmin and Jisung, until the sound of heavy rain hitting the window makes him look up from his phone, where he had been entranced by a reptile video.

The clock on the wall tells him it's 3 minutes to midnight, much later than he had planned on staying up, and that's when he remembers the rumour about the Midnight Channel.

He turns to look at the small TV set up against the far wall, the screen reflecting the light of the street lamp outside, flickering and distorted from the rain.

It's not that he believed what Jisung was telling them, not really, but he still can't help the buzz of anticipation that goes through his body, eyes fixed on the TV.

Predictably, nothing happens.

After a few breathless seconds, Minho shakes himself out of it, feeling a bit silly.

"Yeah, as if," he mutters to himself, looking for his charger so he can plug in his phone and finally go to sleep.

Except then the clock strikes midnight.

The sound of static fills the room, not loud per se, but sudden enough that Minho flinches. Slowly, disbelieving, he turns his head back to the TV.

"What the fuck," he whispers, the words barely making it past his throat.

He knows he didn't turn the TV on himself, because he doesn't even remember where he put the remote. The small red light is still on, indicating that it should, in fact, be turned off.

He gets up as if entranced, taking unsteady steps towards the TV. There's the grey-white flicker of static on screen, but the closer he looks, the more he thinks he can make out the dark shape of something. Maybe a person.

He reaches out one hand, not even sure what he's doing, and touches the screen.

Except his fingers don't hit a solid surface.

The screen distorts, ripples moving outwards from where Minho's fingers are sinking into it. It feels like he's plunging them into water, or something denser but still liquid in consistency, and his brain is absolutely refusing to process what the hell is going on.

Minho wonders, faintly, if this is a dream. If he fell asleep and this is his mind trying to work through the events of the day, incorporating that strange rumour Jisung told them about.

It feels so real, though.

He pushes his hand in a bit further, and then, suddenly, something pulls him forward. He yelps, trying to catch himself as he loses his balance, and instead knocks his head on the edge of the TV. With a strangled curse, he braces himself against the desk the TV is standing on, digs his heels into the ground and pulls with all his might.

 _I Am Thou_ , a voice booms in his head, almost unbearably loud.

_Thou Art I._

_Thou Art The One That Opens The Door._

Whatever force is trying to drag him in is strong, and Minho is almost at the limit of his strength when it suddenly disappears, sending him toppling backwards. He almost crashes into the lamp standing in the corner, barely catching himself, and then he sinks to the ground with a shuddering breath.

"What the actual fuck," he breathes out, staring at the now innocently dark TV. His hands are shaking, and the muscles in his arms ache, and Minho is really freaking out now.

He has half a mind to go find Sohee and ask her what the hell is going on, but something stops him. Maybe it's the shock, or maybe it's the guilt at the thought of waking his cousin when she looked so tired when she finally came home two hours ago.

Despite the terrifying experience, or maybe because of it, Minho is exhausted, too. So in the end, all he does is crawl into bed, keeping a suspicious eye on the TV before he finally, thankfully slips under.

From the moment he opens his eyes the next day, his mind is on the Midnight Channel. He thinks about it all through breakfast, barely paying attention to Seungmin’s attempts at conversation.

Morning assembly passes by in a haze as well. The only thing really registering to Minho are the shocked faces of the students around him, trying to process the death of the man who used to be their teacher. The classroom stays half empty even as the school does its best to give them a sense of normalcy. Minho feels bad for the other teachers, wondering why the administration didn't suspend classes for another couple of days.

Jisung joins him and Changbin for lunch, though Felix is nowhere to be seen. The mood is dampened, all of them mostly focusing on their food, but Minho keeps catching himself staring at Jisung.

He almost asks, the words on the tip of his tongue, if Jisung saw the same thing as Minho did last night. The TV that turned on by itself, the static, the barest outline of a person. But Jisung doesn't bring up the topic himself, and Minho bites his tongue.

Maybe it was just a dream, after all. A hallucination, maybe, produced by his over-tired brain in an unfamiliar environment. Yes. That must be it.

So Minho tries his best to compartmentalize and focus on classes. He’s in his final year of high school, after all. He can’t allow himself to be distracted like this.

Still, he’s relieved when it’s time to head home for the day, meeting Seungmin at the exit so they can walk together. Minho grimaces when they step outside, drawing his scarf higher around his face. The weather really has been unpleasant, and the heavy fog that covered the entire town yesterday is only slowly receding. The forecast said it would rain again, too, so they’re probably going to end up with sleet and iced-over roads.

"Seungmin, do you have any spare masks?"

Seungmin shakes his head. "I don't think so. You wanna go buy some?"

"Yes please," Minho says immediately. "And I need to get new headphones, too. One of the earbuds died on me on my way here."

He honestly meant to go get everything on his first day, but in the end he was so tired that he couldn't bring himself to go outside again. And he doesn't really want to bother Sohee either, what with how busy she is.

"Well, there's an E-mart not too far from here. Or there's a Lotte department store a bit further away," Seungmin says. "I was actually planning on going there this week, I have a couple things I need to get."

"Lotte it is, then," Minho says, because he doesn't really care either way. At least Seungmin seems pleased by his answer.

And, Minho thinks an hour later, as he follows Seungmin through the department store, at least chain stores are the same no matter where you live. He's already grabbed a pack of masks, so now they're just going down Seungmin’s shopping list, one floor at a time.

"Sorry again that I couldn't really show you around school," Seungmin says as they walk along, but Minho just shakes his head.

"You don't have to, seriously. I know you're busy. I can just ask Changbin to give me a tour."

"Right, he's in your class, Jisung mentioned that," Seungmin says absent-mindedly, scanning the aisles they're passing. "Oh, hold on, I need to get some things for school."

He veers off, and Minho trails behind, scanning the shelves for anything he might need himself.

"They're close friends, right? Them and Felix. I haven't spent much time talking to them yet, but they seem fun," Minho says.

"Yeah, Felix is cool," Seungmin says, squatting down to take a look at the lower shelves, and Minho raises an eyebrow at the obvious exclusion.

"And Jisung?" he probes, barely hiding his amusement.

Seungmin sighs. "He's alright," he admits. "I've known him for a long time now."

"Did you guys fight or something?" Minho asks, idly picking through a bin of pens with cute little animal heads on them, searching for a cat-themed one.

He doesn't get to find out what the beef between Seungmin and Jisung is just yet, however, because someone loudly calls out his name from the other end of the stationery department.

"Minho-sunbaenim!"

Minho turns around in surprise to see Jisung, who almost knocks over a cardboard standee with his waving.

"Speak of the devil," Seungmin mutters, going back to comparing the prices of two identical looking binders.

Minho ignores him, instead waving back at Jisung as he runs over to join them. He’s a bit surprised by how pleased he is to see him, considering they don’t really know each other all that well, but he’s willing to roll with it. Jisung seems like an interesting guy, anyway.

“Here for school supplies?” he asks once Jisung’s in earshot, nodding at the notebooks in his hands.

“Oh, this?” Jisung says, looking a bit embarrassed. “Uh, no, they’re actually for lyrics, but— Whoa, Seungmin! I didn’t see you there!”

Seungmin heaves another sigh as he stands back up, binder in hand. “Jisung,” he says, and it sounds a bit grudging. “Hi.” Pleasantries apparently over and done with, he turns to Minho. “Hyung, I think I’m done here. Do you need anything else?”

Minho hums in thought. “I still need headphones,” he says. “The electronics department should be on the next floor, right?” And then, because he really can’t help himself: “Jisung, wanna come with?”

“Sure!” Jisung says, the bright smile on his face a stark contrast to the annoyed look Seungmin is sending Minho’s way.

“Excellent.” Minho grins. “Lead the way.”

Grabbing new headphones is a matter of minutes, and Jisung and Seungmin’s strange dynamic is all the entertainment Minho could ask for, but there’s one thing he didn’t consider.

There's TVs. Big ones.

Minho finds himself standing stock-still in the middle of the electronics department, transfixed by his reflection in one of the shiny, brand-new screens. Seungmin and Jisung are going on and on, arguing about where they should go next, but Minho tunes them out. He thinks about last night: the television turning on by itself, the static, the way his hand had pushed right through it like it was water.

It must have been a dream, right?

But it felt so real.

Slowly, numbly, he reaches one hand out towards the big flat screen television in front of him.

He touches the surface.

His hand—

"What the fuck?" Jisung says, way too loudly, and Minho pulls his hand out of the TV in an instant, whipping around to see his two companions staring at him.

Seungmin has one hand clasped over Jisung's mouth to prevent any further outbursts, but they're both wide eyed in shock.

"Did you just," Seungmin starts, opening and closing his mouth a couple of times.

Jisung claws Seungmin's hand away from his face and looks around nervously to check if anyone's paying attention to them after his really very loud outburst, and then he whisper-hisses, "Did you just put your hand inside that TV?"

Minho’s throat feels unbearably dry, and he’s honestly incredibly freaked out, so it takes him a moment to answer. His voice sounds strange to his own ears when he says, “Yeah. I think so.”

He stares at his hand, trying to stop shaking. He’d come so close to convincing himself that it had all been a dream, but then he just had to go and let his curiosity get the best of him in the middle of a goddamn department store.

Jisung, his eyes wide in wonder, drags Seungmin with him as he approaches Minho and the TV, inspecting it from all sides as if he’s looking for some sort of explanation, any evidence that Minho might be playing a trick on them. When he doesn’t find anything he turns back to Minho, getting almost too close for comfort.

“Do that again!” he demands, and he’s so intent in his excitement that all Minho can do is nod on instinct and reach out to the TV.

Next to him, Seungmin takes a hasty step back, eyes glued to where Minho’s fingers break the surface of the screen, ripples spreading outwards like waves.

“Hyung,” Seungmin says, quiet but frantic. “Hyung, how are you doing that?”

“I don’t know,” Minho answers helplessly. “I really don’t know, it happened last night and I thought it was just a—”

He breaks off with a yelp when he feels _something_ tugging on his hand, and then everything happens too quickly to even think. Minho is pulled off balance, dropping his bag and blindly grasping for something, anything to steady himself, but the only thing in reach is Jisung, who is not prepared to counterbalance the sudden weight as Minho fists a hand in his shirt.

“Holy shit!” Jisung screeches, and somewhere behind them Minho thinks he can hear Seungmin yelling his name, but the only thing he can focus on as he falls through the screen is Jisung’s expression, twisted in fear.

At first there is nothing but the sensation of falling and the sound of blood rushing in Minho's ears. Then there's an impact, hard enough to knock the breath out of him, even though it feels like he landed on something soft.

He can’t bring himself to open his eyes right away, feeling dizzy and disoriented, and for a moment he wonders, idly, if he's dead. But then he hears someone whine, "Owww," right next to his ear, so he blinks and pushes himself up a bit.

There’s Jisung, lying under him, his face startlingly close and looking like he’s about to throw up. It might have something to do with the way Minho’s elbows are digging into his stomach.

“Oh shit, sorry,” Minho says, hastily rolling off of him.

"It's okay," Jisung wheezes, struggling to sit up. "I'm okay."

"Yeah, you're really not," Minho says, standing up slowly to make sure he didn't hurt anything, and then reaching down to help Jisung up as well. Jisung stumbles a bit, holding his back in pain, but at least as far as Minho can tell he's not seriously injured.

"Thanks for breaking my fall," Minho says, and then pats Jisung's shoulder awkwardly when all he gets in reply is a glare.

Jisung stretches a bit, face still contorted in a grimace that slowly fades as he takes in their surroundings. "What happened? Did we really just...fall into the TV? What is this place?"

It’s a difficult question to answer, because Minho can barely see anything that’s farther away from him than Jisung himself. There’s a heavy fog covering the area, moving and shifting despite the total lack of wind. Squinting hard, he thinks he can make out some sort of metal rigging above them, but no ceiling, even though the flooring he’s standing on makes him think they must be in an enclosed space.

He digs his phone out of his pocket and checks the screen, relieved that it seems to be intact despite their rough impact. But when he unlocks it there’s no service, no Internet, and no GPS. The maps app won’t even open, lagging until he gives up.

He tries to wrap his head around how they ended up here but fails miserably. They were in the department store just seconds earlier, and it seems impossible that they could end up somewhere like this, somewhere so completely different, but they have. Is this a dream? Jisung is there with him, though, and it certainly feels real. Is this what would have happened to Minho if he'd been sucked into the TV last night?

“Wait, are those...cameras?” Jisung asks, taking a few steps away, and Minho hurries to follow him. He doesn’t want to risk being separated, not when they don’t know where they are. Or who else is here with them.

There really are cameras, though. Big ones, the kind they use for movies, and there’s a couple TV monitors stacked haphazardly in the area as well. They’re the old kind that they don’t even make anymore, bulky and square, screens blank.

“It’s turned off,” Jisung says, checking the camera and pressing buttons at random. “So I guess at least we’re not being filmed. But what is this, a TV studio? A movie set?”

“It’s fucking creepy, is what it is,” Minho says, pulling Jisung away from the camera. “And this fog is giving me a headache.”

“Yeah, same,” Jisung says, his voice a bit shaky, and he lets himself be dragged along without protest.

Minho is looking for an exit, or other people, or at least a place where the fog will let up a bit, but it’s all to no avail. All that surrounds them is the fog and the quiet, their muffled footsteps the only sound that reaches his ears.

“Listen, did you watch the Midnight Channel last night?” Minho asks eventually as they climb a set of metal stairs, half out of desire to distract them both from freaking out, and half because it really has been on his mind all day.

“What?” Jisung asks, eyebrows drawn together as he tries to figure out what Minho is talking about. Then his expression suddenly clears as he gets it. “Oh, you mean that thing about seeing your soulmate? No, with the murder and everything I didn’t even think about it. Why?”

“I saw it,” Minho admits, and Jisung almost trips over a step at that.

“What?”

“The Midnight Channel. It was raining last night, right? And I swear the TV was turned off, but then it started flickering and showing static. There was...a shape. Something. I couldn’t quite tell, but it might have been a person. And when I reached out to touch the screen my hand went right through it, just like earlier.”

“That is...seriously fucked up,” Jisung says, and Minho laughs.

“Yeah, I know. I was convinced it must have been a dream, but now I’m not so sure anymore,” he says, gesturing at the world around them.

“So what does that mean?” Jisung asks, less like he expects an actual answer from Minho and more like he’s trying to work through his thoughts out loud. “Is the Midnight Channel connected to whatever this place is? And if we were able to enter the TV like this, does that mean other people can, as well? Could there be someone else in here?”

“I have no idea,” Minho admits as they finally arrive at the top of the stairs. “It felt like I was being pulled in, but not like someone grabbing my hand or anything.”

Jisung looks even more disturbed by that, but Minho barely notices, his attention drawn away by something in the fog.

“Hey, what’s that?” he asks, and Jisung whips his head around to look ahead.

“A building?” he guesses, squinting at it. “Sunbaenim, should we go check it out?”

“Just call me hyung already,” Minho says absentmindedly, already walking towards it.

“Oh,” Jisung says, startled. “Alright. Hyung.”

He hurries to catch up to Minho as they leave the stairs behind and metal rigging turns into solid ground again. It takes them a good 5 minutes of walking towards the shape in the distance until they can finally confirm that it's an apartment building. It's maybe 10 stories high, bleak concrete made even more featureless by the all-encompassing fog, and their path ends right at its front door.

Minho and Jisung share an uneasy look, but now that they've come all the way here, they might as well check it out.

"Let's go," Minho says and pushes at the front door.

It gives way easily, swinging inward to grant them access. Beyond lies a foyer of some sort, dimly lit by flickering fluorescent lights, and Minho's eyes are still adjusting to that when he hears Jisung gasp beside him.

"What?" he asks, but when he follows Jisung's gaze he sees it too.

There's a couple of them on the floor, scattered haphazardly. It's only at the far corner of the room that they start covering the wall almost completely — posters, black and white on glossy paper, and Minho thinks they might be headshots or portraits of a person. It's difficult to say, however, with the way they're slashed and torn and defaced with angry strokes of red.

For a moment, Minho thinks it's blood. But then he steps closer and realizes, with a certain sense of relief, that it's paint. There's no way it could be blood, not with how bright it is in its dried state. Right?

"That's…" Jisung's voice is strained, barely audible above the roaring in Minho's ears. He's picked up one of the stray posters from the floor, and his face is drained of all colour as he looks at it.

"That's Mr. Lee."

It takes Minho a moment to catch on.

"The teacher?" he asks before he corrects himself. "The victim?"

Jisung nods, handing him the poster so Minho can see for himself.

It's more intact than some of the others, at least, but the eyes are scribbled out with red, the same colour that was used to cover the rest of the paper with writing. 'Liar' is scrawled aggressively over the person's mouth, characters so distorted that it takes Minho a moment to decipher them. Much worse words take up the rest of the poster.

Minho lets it drop to the floor without care. He only saw that one picture of Mr. Lee on the news for a handful of seconds, so he can't tell if it really is him, but if Jisung says so, then it must be true.

“Well,” Minho says, his voice hushed despite himself. “Might as well check this out, right?”

He nods over at the stairwell. Jisung seems hesitant, but once Minho starts walking towards it, he falls into step, sticking close to Minho’s back.

The light gets more sparse once they start climbing the stairs and leave the foyer behind. Minho supposes that even if there were windows, they wouldn’t be able to see anything through the thick fog outside. He starts looking at his feet, both to make sure he doesn’t trip and because the posters don’t make for particularly pleasant wallpaper.

The concrete below their feet is stained in strange, irregular patterns. Paint, Minho thinks, the same red as on the walls. He catches himself trying to not step on it, like a kid pretending the floor is lava, but then he forces himself to stop being ridiculous. Behind him, Jisung’s breath comes in short, audible bursts.

They pass a couple of landings until they get to one that leads to the first floor, and Minho would be wondering about the improbable layout of this building if his attention wasn’t being drawn in by the way the posters start tapering off, leading away from the stairs that go further up and instead clustering towards the open doorway.

“Huh,” Minho says, stepping forward to poke his head into the hallway beyond. He can’t tell where it ends and neither are there any other doors immediately apparent. All he can see is carpeted floor and the same fluorescent lights as downstairs, flickering a weak, sickly yellow.

“Whoever designed this place had some serious problems,” he jokes, throwing a look back at Jisung, but his smile falters as he does.

“Hyung,” Jisung says faintly, his face white as a sheet, “I really think we should turn back.”

Minho frowns. He’s about to protest, insist they go on, but then he notices Jisung’s hunched up shoulders and the slight tremble of his hands where they’re clenched into fists by his side. He seems rooted to the spot, and Minho follows the line of his gaze back to the dark hallway in front of them.

Now that he’s standing still and on high alert, Minho can feel the dread building up inside of him. There’s something lying ahead of them, something dangerous, and there’s no telling if they’ll be able to get out of it alive. The darkness seems to be moving, almost. Shifting like the fog outside, beckoning and drawing him in—

Minho frowns, shaking himself out of the strange daze he seems to have fallen into. It’s just a hallway. There’s nothing there, he’s clearly just imagining things. Still, Jisung looks kinda scared and uncomfortable, and it doesn’t seem like heading this way will lead them any closer to getting out of here, so there’s really no need to keep pushing forward.

“Alright,” Minho says with a sigh, and Jisung almost sags in relief, grabbing at Minho’s arm and pulling him back the way they came.

They walk fast, neither of them looking back until they’re out of the building and well away from it, almost halfway back to the metal stairs that led them up from the strange TV studio. Jisung finally slows down then, tension replaced with nervous, fidgety energy.

“Sorry,” he says, and he sounds a bit sheepish about it. “I don’t know what it is about that building, but it really freaked me out.”

“It’s okay,” Minho reassures him quickly. He really can’t blame Jisung for getting scared in this strange, twisted world. It’s not like Minho is doing much better. “Let’s just go back to where we came in, okay? Maybe we missed something.”

Jisung still looks a bit shaky, but he nods anyway. Minho nods back, relieved that he seems to have calmed down a bit. So of course that’s when a squeaky voice pipes up from right behind them, scaring the shit out of both of them.

"Who are you?"

Minho whirls around, and then Jisung shrieks and almost jumps on his back, and he has to try really hard to balance himself so that they don't fall to the ground.

There's a fox. Except not a regular fox, more like some kind of fox mascot on two legs and with perpetually closed eyes, looking altogether very 2D. It's a light sandy colour with a white snout and a black bandana tied around its neck.

Fascinated, Minho moves back and forth to look at it from different angles, Jisung clinging onto his shirt the entire time.

"What the fuck," Jisung whispers frantically. "Hyung, what the fuck is that thing?"

"I'm not a thing!" the fox protests, pouting and stomping its foot. "And I can hear you just fine, you know?"

Minho isn't listening to either of them, eyes glinting as he stares at the fox's enormous ears and fluffy tail. It's cute; it doesn't want to kill them, probably; and Minho is going to pet it.

"Hey there," he coos, slowly stretching one hand towards it and offering his hand, like he would with a stray cat.

The fox seems alarmed and Jisung tries tugging him away, hissing a muffled, "What are you doing?" that Minho ignores.

After that, a number of things happen in very quick succession. Minho, determined, lunges for the fox, dislodging Jisung's grip on his shirt in the process. The fox shrieks, evading Minho with a mad dash forward that brings it directly into Jisung's path. Jisung, showcasing some frankly very impressive reflexes, karate chops the fox's head right off.

It goes flying in a beautiful, high arc, and it's then that Minho realizes that the fox doesn't only look like a mascot suit, it _is_ a mascot suit. One that somehow remains standing even though there's absolutely nothing and no one inside of it.

And then Jisung is screaming, and the beheaded fox mascot is somehow also screaming. Minho screams, too, but it's mostly in solidarity.

“Why would you do that?” The fox-head yells as his empty shell of a body wobbles over in his general direction, stumbling like a drunk person, arms reaching out like it’s searching for something.

Jisung’s face goes white at the sight of it, and for a moment Minho is afraid he’s going to faint, so he takes a step towards him just in case. “Are you okay?”

Jisung turns to him slowly, eyebrows almost up in his hairline. “Am I okay?” he repeats. “Hyung, we fell into some sort of alternate dimension full of creepy cameras and murder houses and headless talking monsters and you’re asking me if I’m _okay_?”

His voice gets louder and louder as he speaks, his hands reaching out to hold onto Minho’s arm in a deathgrip. Minho frowns. “No need to yell at me,” he mutters. “I was just worried about you.”

Jisung laughs, but it sounds decidedly hysterical. “Well I’m very touched by your concern, but maybe we could focus on more important things? Like, again, headless monsters?”

“I’m not headless,” the fox says, making them jump. His head has apparently found its way back to his body, and he’s adjusting it as he speaks. “And I’m not a monster.”

Jisung eyes him warily. “Oh yeah? Then what are you?”

The fox seems happy with the position of his head now, letting out a little satisfied noise and carefully wiggling from side to side as if to make sure it’ll stick. Minho still really wants to pet him, but maybe they need to work up to that.

“I’m Jeongin,” the fox declares, which does not answer Jisung’s question at all. “Who are you?”

Jisung seems a bit stumped, so Minho takes it upon himself to introduce them. “My name is Lee Minho, and this is Han Jisung.”

The fox steps a bit closer, his ears twitching as he considers them. “Okay, Lee Minho and Han Jisung. What are you doing here?”

“Rude,” Jisung mutters beside him, but Minho ignores him. For all he knows, this strange fox kid might be their way out of this mess.

"We came here by accident, and we're looking for our way back home," he says. "Could you point us in the right direction?"

"What is this place, anyway?" Jisung adds.

Jeongin tilts his head from side to side, eyebrows drawn together. "This place is what it is. I live here."

"Ooookay," Jisung says, drawing it out a bit. "Is there anyone else? Like, does anyone live in that building back there?"

He points over his shoulder in the direction they just came from, towards the seemingly abandoned apartment block, but Jeongin just shakes his head.

"It's just me and the Shadows here."

He looks remarkably unconcerned as he says it, and Minho resolves to just not ask what Jeongin means by 'Shadows' for his own peace of mind.

"Wonderful," Jisung says flatly, and then he tries to get them back on track. "So, is there an exit? We fell in down there, where all the big cameras are, but we didn't see a way back out."

"Fell in?" Jeongin repeats before he gasps and points an accusing finger at them. "You!" he yells, "Are you the ones who keeps throwing people in here?"

"What? No!" Jisung says, as he and Minho exchange confused looks. Jeongin is about as threatening as, well, an actual fox, but he looks genuinely angry, so Minho hurries to add: "We didn't even know this place existed before today. What do you mean by that, anyway? Someone is throwing people into— into the TV? If that’s what this place is?"

"Yes, and it's really messing up this world when they get trapped in here," Jeongin huffs. He still seems suspicious of them, but at least he stops with the accusations. "They can’t get out on their own. It's such a headache, so I just want whoever’s responsible to think before they do stuff like that. Or better yet, I want them to stop."

"Well, it's not us," Jisung insists. “And what do you mean, ‘can’t get out’? There has to be an exit _somewhere_ , right?”

He’s starting to sound a bit panicky again, so Minho reaches out to put a hand on Jisung’s shoulder in an attempt to calm him down. It doesn’t really do much, but luckily Jeongin’s next words are a bit more promising.

“I can open a TV for you,” he says, and Minho doesn’t really follow at first, but then it clicks.

“So we can go back the same way we came in?” he asks, and Jeongin nods his head energetically.

“This way,” he says, and then he runs off in the direction of the stairs without even waiting to see if they’ll follow.

Jisung hesitates, shooting Minho an uncertain look. “Hyung,” he says, “Are you sure we can trust him?”

“I don’t think we have much of a choice,” he says, and then he grabs Jisung's hand to pull him along. “Come on, hurry up before we lose him.”

They all but run down the stairs, their steps loud against the metal, but as it turns out Jeongin is waiting for them at the bottom.

“Over here!” he calls out to them, and then he leads them further into the fog, until they’re at what Minho thinks might be roughly the center of the studio space. There’s another stack of those old-fashioned TVs there and Minho could smack himself for not thinking of this earlier. If they came in through a TV, then he supposes it makes sense to go out the same way.

Relieved, he flings his hand out to touch the surface and almost sprains his fingers from the force of impact against the solid screen.

“Ouch,” he winces, drawing his hand back. “Wait, why isn’t it working?”

Jeongin gives him a weird look. “You need to turn it on, silly,” he says, and then he hits his fist against the side of the TV, hard.

The entire stack sways a bit from the force of it, but it doesn’t topple over. Instead, there’s a strange electrical noise, and then the screen comes to life, showing a pattern of red and black swirls. It kind of looks like a screensaver, now that Minho thinks about it.

“Here, now you can go back,” Jeongin tells them, and Jisung heaves out a sigh. “Finally!”

The TV is much smaller than the flatscreen back at the department store, but it seems big enough to let them through. Jisung steps forward first, holding onto Minho’s shoulder to steady himself as he carefully puts one foot through the screen. It sinks in easily enough, and Minho lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding at the sight of it.

“I’m going ahead, hyung,” Jisung tells him, clearly more than ready to get out of here. “Thanks, fox boy!”

“My name is Jeongin!” Jeongin huffs, but Jisung is through the TV before he can say anything else.

Minho steps up to the screen as well, though something makes him stop before he starts to climb through. He doesn’t quite know why, but he turns to look back at the strange fox mascot that brought them here and hesitates. Jeongin looks almost lost, and Minho wonders what he’s going to do after they’re gone. “It’s just me and the Shadows here,” Jeongin had said. Minho isn’t sure what to make of that.

But either way, Minho needs to get back to the real world.

“Thank you for your help,” he starts and then stumbles over what to say next. It’s not really like he can tell Jeongin ‘see you later’ or anything, since he has absolutely no intention of coming back here. This was an accident and he’ll be glad to leave it behind.

In the end, all he can offer is a tentative, “Good-bye.”

Jeongin, small in the expanse of their surroundings and light fur stark in contrast against the fog, gives him a tiny wave. “Good-bye!”

And with that, Minho climbs into the TV.

The journey is much shorter this time. He steps through with one foot and immediately sets it on solid ground on the other side, the rest of his body following in an uncoordinated tangle of limbs that almost sends him to the floor again. He barely catches himself in time, but apparently Jisung wasn’t quite as lucky — he’s sitting on the floor, once again holding his back in pain.

“Ow,” he moans pathetically, and Minho almost laughs at him, but someone else speaks up behind them just then, making him whirl around in surprise.

“What. The fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- If you think about it, this fic was basically born out of my 10 year long grudge about not being able to date Yosuke in Persona 4. Also I started writing this in 2019 and then in 2020 Atlus rereleased P4 for PC. Coincidence? I think not!!
> 
> \- Sohee is a member of my favourite underrated girl group, Nature. Shout-out to my two (2) fellow combination Stay/Leafs! (Steafs?...Lays?)
> 
> \- the Internet says that Korean high school students are seated by height, which doesn’t actually seem to be a universal thing (unless my kdramas have been lying to me), but definitely made me want to seat Changbin in the first row. Sorry, Changbin. I made it the second row instead.
> 
> \- in general we’re just going to have to assume this is an alternative universe where the Korean high school experience is just a tiny bit less stressful than it is in real life. I’m pretty sure no 3rd year student would actually have the time to run around and save the world.
> 
> \- I tried my best to research life in Korea wherever I could, and I hope nothing is too terribly out of place.
> 
> See you next time!


	2. March Continued

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _tell seungmin sorry about not properly interviewing the headless fox monster inhabiting the creepy TV world we stumbled into_

“What. The fuck.”

It’s Seungmin. He’s still standing right where they left him, as if rooted to the floor, and he is _furious_.

"You assholes," he bites out, even as his entire body trembles, his eyes red and his hands clenched by his sides. "You made me wait two hours! I was so worried!"

Minho blanches, reaching out to him, but Seungmin is already turning on the spot and stalking away, leaving Minho and Jisung to look at each other in guilty silence.

"Shit, I didn't realize it'd been that long," Jisung says, scrambling up and off the floor. "Should we go after him?"

"I'll go," Minho decides after a quick look at his watch, bending down to pick up his bag from where it's still lying on the floor, exactly where he dropped it earlier. "You should be heading home, it's late."

Jisung seems doubtful, glancing in the direction Seungmin left, but eventually he relents. "Fine. My parents are probably gonna freak if I miss dinner. Just…tell him that I'm sorry?"

Minho nods and tries to give Jisung a reassuring smile. "It'll be fine. See you tomorrow, Jisung."

He only takes two steps before there's hands at his arm to hold him back, and Minho turns in surprise to see Jisung's face almost too close, a slight flush on his cheeks.

"Hyung, I," he starts, not really looking Minho in the eye. "I just wanted to say thank you. For looking out for me. In there."

"Yeah, no problem," Minho says, equally flustered. Jisung really is very, very close, and Minho can't help but think that he looks adorable. Not adorable in the same way as Jeongin the fox is adorable, but, you know. Cute.

"Could we maybe exchange numbers?" Jisung asks. "You know. So you can tell me how it went with Seungmin."

Minho has to clear his throat before he can reply with a casual, "Sure."

He pulls out his phone so they can exchange numbers and once they step out into the street he sends Jisung on his way, a smile on his face despite the overwhelming events of the day.

Out of nowhere, as he looks at Jisung’s retreating back, an excruciating burst of pain shoots through Minho’s chest. It hurts. It hurts so bad, he can barely remain standing as he gasps for breath, white spots obscuring his vision—

And then, just as suddenly as it appeared, the pain goes away, leaving Minho panting and confused. Around him, in the encroaching darkness, the street lights turn on one by one.

“What the…” Minho mutters, and it’s only then that he notices the card on the ground in front of him. He picks it up on instinct and takes in the design printed on it with a growing sense of unease. It’s dark blue, with some sort of theatre mask in the center. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen it before, but at the same time it feels unbearably familiar.

He turns it over to see a different design: two hands and a flame, but also a disembodied pair of eyes and an infinity symbol. The combination means nothing to Minho, and it’s probably just a piece of trash that someone threw out on the street, so he looks around for somewhere to dispose of the thing.

But then, even though he could’ve sworn this day could not get any weirder, it does. The card pulses, grows suddenly hot, and then it’s ripped out of his hand, floating and spinning in midair for a second before it surges at Minho’s chest, disappearing in an instant and spreading a feeling of warmth and comfort throughout his entire body.

Minho exhales shakily, checking behind him as if the card had somehow gone right through him, but no. It’s gone. It’s...it’s inside Minho, apparently. What the hell.

With a couple deep breaths and a shake of his head, Minho decides to unpack this later. For now, he needs to go after his cousin.

Seungmin, for all his earlier anger and distress, is a rational person. By the time Minho follows him home, he's already regained his composure and is pacing the living room, demanding an explanation as soon as Minho is through the door.

Minho does his best to give him the full story, as unbelievable as it all sounds, and he can tell that Seungmin is sceptical with every fraction that his eyebrows climb higher. Still, there's no denying that Minho and Jisung disappeared into the TV, no way they could have orchestrated it as some kind of prank, and as many probing questions Seungmin asks, he has to accept it eventually.

"And Jisung is sure that it was Mr. Lee on the posters?" he asks, and when Minho nods, Seungmin looks contemplative. "Someone must have had a serious grudge against him, if they wrote things like that."

"The killer?" Minho guesses. The thought that whoever is responsible for the murders might have been in the TV world with them is chilling, but then he remembers Jeongin saying no one else from outside was there but them.

"And this...fox person?"

"Jeongin."

"This Jeongin said that someone was throwing people into his world?"

"Yeah," Minho says. "And they got trapped, because they couldn't leave by themselves. Jeongin had to help us get out, or else we would have been stuck, too."

Seungmin frowns. "So what, they died in there?"

That throws Minho for a loop. He tries to think back to their conversation with Jeongin, but he never actually mentioned what happened to the people who were thrown in. It didn't sound like they were still stuck inside, either alive or dead. He really should have asked more questions, but in his defense, he's had a pretty stressful day.

"Jeongin didn't really say," Minho admits, dragging one hand across his face. He’s exhausted, and the headache that had dissipated once they’d stepped out of the TV is coming back in full force. “Maybe he helped them get out like he did with us?”

Seungmin sighs. “Did you at least ask him if he knows anything about Mr. Lee or who put those posters up?”

When Minho’s only answer is a bleary look, Seungmin throws up his hands in frustration.

“Fine, whatever. We’ll think this through some other time.”

To be honest, Minho has absolutely no desire to think it through. He’d be quite happy to pretend it never happened, actually, and even if the TV world is somehow related to Mr. Lee, it’s not like they can tell anyone about it. The man’s death was tragic, but it’s up to the police to figure it out.

Seungmin, however...Minho can tell that he’s serious about this. He’d already been complaining about Sohee not telling him anything about the serial murder case, and now there’s the mystery about the TV and a possible connection between the two. Seungmin is like a dog with a bone. If he’s going to look into this for real, then Minho has no delusions about being able to stay out of it.

“Alright,” he says, very reluctantly, “I guess we can sit down with Jisung and see if he remembers anything else.”

His words seem to catch Seungmin by surprise. He just stares at Minho for a moment before a slow, curious smile takes over his face.

“Let’s do that,” he says, determined, and as he does, Minho once again feels a burst of pain shoot through him.

It’s enough to make him flinch, even if it’s not quite as intense as before, and his eyes water. Minho blinks furiously, attempting to see through the haze of tears, and for a second he swears he’s looking right at another card — the outline of a scale balanced on the hilt of a sword, stark black against a red and white background.

It’s gone as soon as it came, and then all that he’s left with is a feeling of warmth in his chest and the sinking certainty that Seungmin’s resolve is a maelstrom, strong enough to drag Minho down with him.

Minho does end up texting Jisung that night, just to let him know that everything went about as well as it could with Seungmin. Jisung replies quickly, thanking him for the update, and Minho thinks that’s it. But somehow, they end up texting each other a lot over the next couple of days. It starts with them talking about their experience inside the TV, but quickly devolves into random messages about what they're up to, and also cat memes. Lots of cat memes.

Jisung is easy to talk to, and they both seem to need the reassurance that what they saw and experienced was real. It’s still strange to think about, and Minho needs some time to work through it all. Thankfully, Seungmin has mercy on him and holds back all the questions he clearly still wants to ask.

As for Jisung, he doesn’t remember any other salient details from their conversation with Jeongin.

 _tell seungmin sorry about not properly interviewing the headless fox monster inhabiting the creepy TV world we stumbled into_ , he types, and Minho snorts when he reads it.

 _tell him yourself_ , he writes back, even as he forwards the message to Seungmin, because he wants to see what kind of angry stickers Seungmin will send in response.

The steady ping of notifications is a welcome distraction over the weekend, and Minho finds himself glad to see Jisung again at school the next week. If Changbin and Felix notice that they're suddenly much more comfortable with each other during lunch break, they don't say anything.

The mood in general is still somewhat subdued, even if all of their classmates have returned to school by now. Minho didn't attend the funeral, since he didn't actually know the deceased, but he knows a lot of other students did.

"He was a good teacher," Dahyun says, in one of the rare instances of someone talking about Mr. Lee. "Young and popular. I don’t think there was anyone who wished him ill."

Unbidden, images of torn paper and angry, red words fill Minho’s mind, and he has to hold back a wince. Clearly someone out there had it in for the guy.

He shakes his head as if to dispel the image, ignoring Dahyun's curious gaze. There's really no use in fixating on this. Whatever happened to Mr. Lee is none of his concern. Besides, there's other, much more immediate problems to deal with right here in their own world.

For one thing, Minho has fucking had it with room 0325.

Multiple times this week, when he wasn't paying enough attention to where he was going, he's ended up right outside this door on the third floor, past the library, in a quiet corner of the building that not a lot of people pass through.

And every time he finds himself glaring at the sign on the door that says '0325: Bang Chan - School Counselor'. Because this isn't anywhere close to his actual destination (the cafeteria on the first floor, because he didn't bring his own lunch today) and now he's going to be both hungry and late. If they run out of Minho's favorite before he gets there, he's going to have some serious words with whatever force keeps pulling him here.

"The counselor?" Changbin asks later, when Minho very casually brings it up in conversation. "What about him?"

Changbin looks weirdly shifty, fiddling with the sleeves of his shirt. Minho narrows his eyes at him.

"Have you ever been to see him?" he says, but then reconsiders, grimacing. That's kind of an invasive thing to ask someone he's only known for a week. "No, you don't have to answer that, sorry."

Changbin just shrugs. "It's cool. I went to see hyu— him! I went to see him a handful of times. He's chill."

Internally, Minho despairs at Changbin's terrible acting skills, but he bites his tongue before he can point it out and offend his new friend.

Besides, he's pretty sure Changbin is well aware of his own blunder, judging by his bright red face.

"Uh, he's pretty easy to talk to, if you're looking for someone. I can show you where to put your name down for an appointment?"

Minho hums noncommittally. Something definitely wants him to go into that room, but Minho is nothing if not contrary. It's not one of his better qualities, he'll admit.

"Eh. Maybe," he says eventually, shrugging one shoulder. "I was just curious."

Changbin doesn't really look convinced, but he drops the topic anyway. He's a good guy like that.

Honestly, Changbin is absolutely nothing like Minho thought he would be. He's open and talkative and fun to tease, and he has an unfortunate habit of doing too much aegyo even when the rest of them beg him to stop.

Minho is immensely grateful for his split-second, unthinking decision to approach him on the first day of school. He really doesn't understand how anyone could think of Changbin as scary, or some kind of stereotypical bad boy.

Jisung tries to explain it to him one day, when they're supposed to have a meeting to talk about the TV mystery — Jisung caught the Midnight Channel the previous night, though he couldn’t make out anything beyond vague shapes in the static. Seungmin isn't with them however, stuck at the private academy he attends a couple times a week, so instead they're just kind of hanging out in front of the convenience store despite the cold, talking about nothing in particular.

"Binnie-hyung is just really grumpy in the mornings," Jisung says through a mouthful of ramyeon. Minho pulls a face and shoves a napkin at Jisung so he can wipe his mouth. "And he has a resting scary face, y'know? He looks super intense at all times, even when he's thinking about, like, puppies or rainbows or Felix."

Minho hums, stirring his own cup of rapidly-cooling noodles and leaning back in his rickety plastic chair.

"Most of our classmates seem pretty scared of him. Something about him beating up students from another high school?"

Jisung groans. "God, is that still going around? It's the world's stupidest misunderstanding, I swear."

He pauses to gulp down the last bit of broth, pushing the container aside so he has room to gesticulate. Minho has noticed he talks with his hands a lot. It's cute.

"Alright, so we went one town over because there's a good music equipment store there and we wanted to look at fancy mix boards that we could never afford, right?"

"Right," Minho agrees, as if that makes any sense.

"And it was freezing and the roads were iced over and everything, and I swear I only looked away from hyung for one second, and suddenly he's bumped into a random guy wearing a uniform from another school. Which wouldn't be a big deal, of course, except it was slippery, so the guy went down."

"Oh no," Minho says, entranced, but Jisung isn't done yet.

"So Changbinnie-hyung is apologizing and wants to help him up, but then he ends up slipping, too, and almost crushes the poor guy, and then they're both flailing and scrambling to get up."

"Oh god," Minho whispers.

"Right?" Jisung laments. "And then I was rushing over to help him, and so were the guy's friends, and it was a whole thing, and so embarrassing. We couldn't go back there for months."

"Understandable," Minho says. "But what does that have to do with the rumors?"

Jisung pinches the bridge of his nose, looking pained. "That's the thing. Someone else must have been around to see it, but either they misinterpreted what they saw or it got twisted when it was spread around, because by the time we got to school the next day everyone was talking about how hyung was in a fight with like, five guys and brought them all down."

Minho has no idea what to say to all that, so he just stares at Jisung, torn between laughing and crying at how goddamn awkward Changbin's life is.

"I know," Jisung whines, getting the gist from Minho's expression. "And it was just Binnie-hyung, nobody was talking about me being involved. I don't know how this always happens to him. It would be funny if it didn't upset him so much."

With a pang of guilt, Minho remembers their conversation on the very first day of school. If he had known that it was a sensitive topic for Changbin, he would have never brought it up.

“Anyway,” Jisung says, “That’s how Binnie-hyung came to be known as a delinquent even though he’s a giant softie at heart. I worry about him sometimes.”

He flops down on the table, resting his chin on crossed arms and looking up at Minho from under his fringe. Minho doesn’t question the urge to ruffle his hair, just goes with it, and if Jisung dislikes it, he doesn’t say anything — though he does pout a bit.

“You’re a good friend,” Minho says.

Jisung’s shrug looks a bit awkward with the way he’s still resting on the table, his big coat restricting his movements. “I guess. Me and Felix not being in the same grade as him sucks, so I’m glad you’re here now.”

Minho just makes a non-committal sound and goes back to stirring his cold noodles, not really sure what to say to that. Luckily Jisung seems to be done with this conversation as well, sitting back up and stretching his arms over his head with a sigh.

“Let’s just call it a day, hyung,” he says. "It's not like we're getting anything done here."

"Alright," Minho agrees readily. He doesn't really feel like eating the rest of his noodles anyway. "If Seungmin asks, we devoted all our brain power to the investigation."

Jisung's laughter is a bright, infectious sound, and it keeps Minho warm all the way back home.

Two days later, Sohee calls to let them know she'll be staying late at work again.

"I think someone else disappeared," Seungmin tells Minho, and he seems anxious, restless.

Minho himself isn't doing much better. He really hadn't thought much of it, back when Sohee told him about the serial killings on his first night in town, but it feels much more immediate now.

He considers waiting up for Sohee even after Seungmin goes to bed, but it's nearing midnight and she's still not back.

Then, it starts to rain.

Minho doesn't really think about it. He just runs up to his room, taking the stairs two at a time, and slides to the floor in front of his TV. He's breathless, but not just from the sudden exertion. His eyes are glued to the dark screen, his pulse hammering in his throat, and when the TV turns on the second the clock strikes midnight, he's not sure if he should be feeling triumphant or terrified.

The static clears a bit, and this time Minho is certain — there's a person on screen. At first, all he can see is a vague outline, but with every second the picture becomes clearer, until he can see a woman with short, dark hair. He thinks she's wearing an apron, but he can't say for sure, because there's some kind of distortion or interference that makes it difficult to focus on the details.

When he sees her mouth move and hears actual sound, Minho startles so badly that he barely registers what she's saying at first. It's not very clear even when he strains to listen, and just when he can finally make out part of a sentence the screen goes abruptly dark.

Minho inhales deeply and releases a shuddering breath, trying to make sense of what he heard. 'Family' and 'shame'. Those two words came through loud and clear.

He takes another second to calm himself, but then he scrambles for his phone, almost dropping it in his haste to unlock it.

He pulls up Jisung's contact, but before he can call or text him, he gets a kakao notification.

_hyung!!!!!! did you see that??_

It's Jisung, and Minho doesn't have to ask what he's referring to.

 _Yes_ , he types back, _there was a woman, right? Did you hear what she said?_

 _not really_ , is Jisung's immediate answer, and Minho frowns at his screen. _but I think I've seen her before? she seemed familiar…_

 _Try to remember_ , he tells Jisung, and only waits until he gets a thumbs-up in return before he locks his screen. He doesn't get much sleep that night.

It rains two more times over the next week, and on each of those nights the woman is on their TVs. Her image becomes clearer every day, and Jisung swears he's seen her before (as does Seungmin, who insisted on checking the Midnight Channel for himself), but he can't figure out where.

Then, Minho wakes to find the world shrouded in fog.

There was a weather warning on the news last night, but even with the advanced notice Minho feels incredibly unsettled. He's not even sure why — maybe it's just that it reminds him of the fog inside the TV world, or the weather the day they found Mr. Lee's body.

He doesn't have to wait long to have his bad feeling confirmed, in the end. The news of another body found atop an antenna spreads like wildfire. Minho hears the woman's name murmured in the halls of their school, but he doesn't think he's ever heard it before — she was a shopkeeper, apparently, who returned from Seoul to take over her family's business.

Minho tries his best to tune out the gossip about the victim's strenuous relationship with her parents, and it's not until Jisung and Seungmin come running up to him during break that he starts to make the connection.

"The victim, that lady they found? I swear that's the one I saw on the Midnight Channel," Jisung hisses, pulling Minho further down an empty hallway. Seungmin nods frantically next to him, looking sick.

"Fuck," is all Minho can say to that, mind reeling. "So what, the Midnight Channel is connected to the murders?"

"Remember Mr. Lee?" Seungmin asks, looking around furtively and keeping his voice to a whisper. "Before they found his body that one girl from class C was talking about him being her soulmate because she saw him on the Midnight Channel, right? So both victims were shown on TV, and then they both died."

Minho blanches, because there's no way it could be a coincidence. It's about as clear a connection as there can be.

Jisung is fidgeting, too much energy with nowhere to go as he tries to think things through. "Jeongin said someone was throwing people into his world, and that they couldn't get out. Do you… do you think that maybe that's how they died?"

It's a sobering thought, but neither Minho nor Seungmin can take it any further, because the bell signals the end of their break right in that moment.

Minho clicks his tongue in annoyance, and then he points at both of them in turn. "Seungmin, skip the academy today, alright? Jisung, come to our place after school. We can talk about it then."

He gets tense nods in reply and then they part ways, hurrying back to their respective classrooms, even though Minho doesn't think he'll be able to concentrate on a single subject for the rest of the day.

The hours drag on, unbearably slow, and Minho breathes out a sigh of relief as the bell signals the end of classes. He's out of his seat and ready to go before Dahyun can even ask him if he's staying for self-study time.

"Sorry, not today," he calls over his shoulder, before waving goodbye at a startled Changbin and all but running out the door.

Seungmin is already waiting for him by the exit, perking up when he catches sight of Minho.

"Jisung went on ahead," he says as they fall into step. "He said he was gonna stop by his place and then come over."

“Alright,” is all Minho says to that, and then they’re walking home in silence, snowflakes swirling through the air above them, melting before they even reach the ground.

There’s a strange mix of anticipation and unease hanging in the air between them, and they don’t really talk until they’re at home and Jisung is ringing the doorbell, panting and out of breath from the way he had clearly ran all the way over from his place.

“Hi,” he says breathlessly, kicking off his shoes and struggling out of his coat and scarf. He seems familiar with the layout of the house, and he doesn’t bother waiting for Minho to invite him in, just heads straight for the living room, where Seungmin is waiting for them.

“Did you hear anything from your sister?” Jisung asks as he sits cross-legged on the floor, setting his messenger bag down beside him. “She’s working this case, right?”

Seungmin shakes his head. “She just called to say we shouldn’t wait up for her today. I tried, but she won’t tell me anything.”

“She probably isn’t allowed to,” Minho says placatingly, settling down next to his cousin. “So we’ll just have to work with what’s publicly available. Do you guys know when the previous victims died? Maybe we can search for news articles about them.”

“No need,” Seungmin says with a sigh, picking up a simple black notebook and flipping it open on the low table between them. Minho and Jisung lean forward, intrigued.

The pages are covered in Seungmin’s neat handwriting in a couple different colours, detailing what appears to be a timeline of some sort.

"Blue is Mr. Lee," Seungmin says, pointing out some of the entries. "This is the day he disappeared, and here's the day they found his body. We know someone saw him on the Midnight Channel at some point in between. I guess we’d have to ask around at school to figure out the exact date."

"And these are the other victims?" Minho asks, tracing the other colours across the timeline. There's always a handful of days between their disappearance and the discovery of the body, and some blank spots between the different victims. Minho can't help but notice that the gaps are getting shorter, however.

"A clear pattern," Jisung says, almost bouncing in excitement. "You've been keeping track the whole time?"

Seungmin shakes his head, looking a bit shifty. "Uh, not the whole time. I just thought it was weird when they found the third victim, so I looked up everything for the previous cases and wrote it down. Y'know, to make sense of it."

Minho gives his cousin a look but doesn't say anything. He guesses Seungmin's frustration at not being told anything about the case ran a bit deeper than he'd thought.

"There's no way to confirm that the other victims also appeared on the Midnight Channel, but I'm feeling pretty confident in the assumption that they did," Seungmin continues, and Jisung hums in agreement.

"So we know the timeline, and from the latest victim we know that there's a bunch of times they appear on the Midnight Channel before they disappear," he says, contemplative. "Should we tell the police?"

Seungmin scoffs. “Tell them what? That a fox told us that someone is killing people by throwing them into the TV? Who would believe that?”

Jisung winces. “Yeah, I guess there’s no way we could get anyone to listen to us."

Minho kind of wants to point out that _Seungmin_ believed them, but he keeps his mouth shut, because he himself isn’t convinced telling the police would be the best course of action. Something is nagging at the back of his mind, the half-faded memory of yellow eyes inside a strange dream.

_A great mystery will be imposed upon you._

Minho blinks, shaking his head to dislodge the unwelcome thought only to realize that the conversation has moved on without him.

“What’s that?” Jisung asks, frowning at the small symbols drawn next to some of the dates. “A sun, a raincloud...You’re keeping track of the weather, too?”

Seungmin nods, smoothing his index finger over the pages. “I wasn’t initially, but since the Midnight Channel only appears on rainy days I got the idea to look up old weather reports. Look at this.”

He points out a number of different dates, each accompanied by a couple of squiggly lines. Minho doesn’t really get what they’re supposed to represent until Seungmin explains, “These are the days on which the previous victims were found. I didn’t realize before, but I checked the records, and for every single one of these there was a heavy fog warning.”

“Whoa,” Jisung says, frowning. “That’s weird.”

“The TV world,” Minho says slowly, trying to sort through his thoughts, “It was really foggy in there. I wonder if there’s a connection.”

“We should ask Jeongin,” Jisung agrees, jerking his head over at the TV. “Come on, let’s get going!”

"I'm not going in there," Seungmin says, his arms crossed tightly across his chest. "And you shouldn't either. If what you said is true then people have died in that world."

"Oh come on," Jisung whines, "We were completely fine last time, nothing happened."

Minho gives him a subtle look and a quirk of his eyebrow. Jisung answers by rolling his eyes, but quickly schools his expression when Seungmin speaks up again.

"You don't know what might be waiting for you over there. You got lucky last time and only met that fox guy, but what if something else attacks you?"

"It's cool, I have something we can defend ourselves with," Jisung says, rummaging in his bag until he finds what he's looking for, pulling it out with a triumphant, "A-ha!"

It appears to be a pretty large, long-ish object wrapped in a towel, and Seungmin gives it a dubious look.

"What is it?" he asks, just as Jisung unwraps the towel to reveal…well.

"A knife!" Jisung says cheerfully, and Seungmin jumps in alarm.

"Jisung, no!"

Minho just leans back a bit, wary of the huge kitchen knife Jisung is brandishing with a lot less care than one would hope for.

“Put that away before you hurt yourself!” Seungmin snaps, and Jisung frowns, putting the knife back down.

"What, do you have any better ideas?"

Seungmin sighs again, but then he gets up and heads for the entryway without another word. Minho and Jisung look after him, confused.

"Uh, Seungmin?" Jisung asks, but Seungmin just says, "One second," as he leaves the room, followed by a rustling sound that Minho can't quite place until Seungmin returns, baseball bat in hand.

"Here," he says, even as he looks reluctant to part with it. "You can take this. Try not to break it, please."

"Sweet!" Jisung says, reaching out to take it only for Seungmin to lift it out of his reach and hand it to Minho instead.

"I'm giving it to hyung," he says pointedly when Jisung whines in protest, and Minho smirks, hefting the metal bat in his grip to gauge its weight.

"Thank you. I'll take good care of it."

He supposes that solves one problem, but there still remains the question of how to enter the other world.

“Should we go back to Lotte?” Jisung asks, giving the TV over on the opposite side of the room a sceptical once-over while Minho does the same. It certainly looks big enough, but it’s also mounted on the wall, so climbing in might be awkward. Besides, what if Sohee comes home while they’re in the TV world?

“There will be too many people around at the store,” Seungmin says reluctantly, shaking his head and signaling for them to follow him. “We can’t risk anyone seeing you, it’s a wonder nobody did last time. Come on.”

“Our old TV broke a couple months ago, and noona keeps forgetting to throw it out,” he says as he leads them down the stairs to the basement. “So it’s just been gathering dust down here. It should be big enough, and since the TV doesn’t need to be turned on it shouldn’t matter if it’s broken or not, right?”

He flicks on the light once they reach the bottom of the stairs, and Minho looks around the small room, which seems to be mostly used for storage. There’s stacks of neatly labeled boxes off to the side and a worn looking futon pushed against the far wall. Seungmin walks over to a cabinet set between a pair of rickety shelves and pulls off the sheet that covers a flat screen TV. It’s an older model, and it looks like it might be a tight fit, but Minho agrees that it’s their best alternative.

“For the record, I still think this is a bad idea,” Seungmin mutters, stepping off to the side and crossing his arms.

“It’ll be fine,” Jisung says. “We’ll just pop in and talk to Jeongin, and then we’ll be back before you know it.”

Seungmin doesn’t look convinced, lips twisted into a thin line, but he doesn’t say anything else. That seems to be enough for Jisung, who turns to stretch out his hand towards Minho. Minho looks at it, confused.

“What?” he asks, his eyes flicking back up to Jisung’s face.

Jisung huffs impatiently, wiggling his fingers. “I can’t go into the TV by myself. Trust me, I tried it at home but it didn’t work. I’m pretty sure I need to be in contact with you.”

“So you want me to...hold your hand?” Minho asks, just to make sure.

Jisung gives him a flat look. “Well, you could try holding my leg, but I think that would make things kind of awkward.”

“Hyung, for the love of god, just take his hand,” Seungmin groans. Minho frowns at him. He’s not even going into the TV with them, so what is it to him?

Still, Minho reaches out to thread his fingers through Jisung’s, because it’s not like they haven’t held hands before. It’s just that all previous times were on occasions of emotional distress and/or fear of bodily harm.

“Let’s go,” Minho says, adjusting his grip on Seungmin’s baseball bat and throwing another glance back at his cousin. “See you in a bit.”

“Be careful,” Seungmin says, and his worried face is the last thing Minho sees before he steps through the screen.

Traveling via TV seems to get easier with practice. There's a queasy feeling in Minho's stomach, but when he steps out on the other side he's nowhere near as disoriented as the last time.

Jisung stumbles out after him, steadying himself against Minho before he looks around, squinting into the fog.

"Huh," he says. "This looks different from last time, right?"

The cameras they saw on their previous visit are nowhere in sight, replaced by flood lights that tower far above them, though they’re so weak that they’re not doing much to illuminate their surroundings.

"Yeah," Minho starts, but doesn't get any further than that.

"You guys!"

Minho and Jisung turn as one, startled, to see a familiar fox mascot running up to them.

"Jeongin, hey!" Jisung calls back, waving happily, but he falters when he sees the expression on Jeongin's face.

"What are you doing!" he huffs, coming to a stop in front of them. "Why didn't you come through at the same place as last time? If I hadn't already been in this area I never would have noticed you were here!"

"Oh," Jisung says, taken aback. "Sorry buddy, we didn't realize going into a different TV would spit us out somewhere else. The one from last time isn't very convenient for us to use."

Jeongin frowns at them, short arms akimbo. "Well, you'd better stick to this one from now on, and I'll keep an eye on this spot. Otherwise you could really get stuck here, you know?"

"Sorry," Minho repeats, chastised. "We didn't even think about that. Thanks for looking out for us."

"It's okay," Jeongin sniffs. "But what are you guys doing here, anyway?"

Jisung’s expression grows somber in an instant. “Jeongin, the last time we came by you said something about people being trapped in here, right? People from our world?”

Jeongin goes very still, and Jisung’s voice grows a bit gentler in response.

“Do you remember the building where we first met? There were pictures of a guy in there, older than us, with black hair and glasses—”

“That was his palace,” Jeongin says, cutting Jisung off. He’s not quite looking at them, ears flicking back and forth nervously.

Minho raises an eyebrow, confused. “His ‘palace’? What does that mean?”

“It’s where they go.The people who fall in here. They go to their palace, and they don’t leave until...until they…”

It’s almost like he can’t bring himself to say it, so Minho leans forward to get to eye level with Jeongin, searching his face.

“Jeongin,” he says carefully. “The people who get stuck in this world...do they die in here?”

It takes a moment, but then Jeongin nods, a barely visible movement, and Minhho can hear Jisung sucking in a breath next to him.

“How do they die?” Minho presses, because that’s something else they haven’t been able to figure out yet — the cause of death.

“The Shadows,” Jeongin says haltingly, “They leave them alone at first, but if they’re in here too long…”

Minho frowns at yet another mention of these mysterious Shadows. His mind draws a blank when it comes to imagining them, but if they’re responsible for the victims' deaths, then they must be dangerous.

“Alright,” Jisung says once it’s clear that Jeongin isn’t volunteering any more information on that front. “What about the last couple of days? Did you see someone else from our world? A woman?”

“Yes!” Jeongin says, nodding quickly. “Yes, I saw her!” Then his expression crumbles, and for a second Minho is worried that he’s going to start crying. “I tried calling out to her, but she ran away. By the time I caught up to her she was already in her palace, and I...I can’t go in there. It’s too dangerous.”

“I still don’t really get what this palace thing is supposed to be,” Jisung admits, and Minho has to agree.

Jeongin takes in their confusion and thinks for a moment before he seems to come to a decision.

“I can take you there,” he offers, pointing somewhere into the distance. “It’s not far from here.”

“Great!” Jisung says, “Lead the way.”

Minho hesitates however, glancing back at the stack of TVs that’s their exit back into the real world. “We told Seungmin we’d be right back,” he says, more to himself than anyone else, but Jisung picks up on it anyway.

“Hyung, come on, it’ll be fine,” he coaxes, and with both Jisung and Jeongin looking at him expectantly, Minho can’t bring himself to say no.

“Okay. We’ll just go take a quick look and then we’ll head back. ” He frowns, squinting into the fog. “Not that we can really see much of anything in here.”

“Oh!” Jeongin says, “That reminds me. Here!”

He fumbles with his neckerchief, and then he’s suddenly pulling two pairs of glasses out of nowhere, holding them out towards Minho and Jisung.

“Glasses?” Jisung asks, leaning in closer to examine them critically.

“I made them for you,” Jeongin says proudly, “In case you came back.”

“Oh,” Jisung says, much more softly this time.

Minho understands the feeling. Jeongin had no way of knowing they’d ever be back. Hell, after their first trip to the TV world Minho would’ve sworn he’d never set foot inside it again. So the fact that Jeongin made something for them after one short and honestly not ideal meeting is really sweet of him. That said…

“Why glasses?” Minho asks, plucking a pair of wire-framed circular lenses out of Jeongin’s paws. He leaves the bolder, orange frames to Jisung — they’ll fit his hair better, anyway.

"It's for the fog," Jeongin says. "It hurts your eyes, right? These will help!"

Sharing another look with Jisung and only getting a shrug in return, Minho puts on the glasses. He blinks a couple of times, shakes his head a little bit, and then he feels it.

The constant pressure that started building up in his head the moment they stepped foot inside the TV is gone in an instant. The heavy fog surrounding them is obviously still there, but somehow his vision seems so much clearer now.

"Oh," Jisung says, surprised, his own pair of glasses resting on his nose. "Wow, they really work!"

"Of course they do!" Jeongin sounds affronted, shaking his paws at Jisung in a way that might be meant to be threatening, but is mostly just really cute. "I worked really hard on them!"

"Thank you," Jisung says with an easy grin, patting the top of Jeongin's head despite some very loud protests.

"What is it with this fog, anyway?" Minho complains, looking over the top of his glasses for a second before grimacing and readjusting them.

Jeongin quiets down at that, gesturing for them to follow him as he starts leading them away from the studio space and onto some kind of asphalt path. Even with the help of their new glasses it’s hard to make out what the world around them looks like.

“The fog has been getting stronger and stronger recently,” Jeongin explains. “Sometimes it spills over into your world. That’s when the Shadows get really violent and make the people that were thrown in here disappear.”

Minho supposes ‘make them disappear’ translates to ‘kill’, though that still doesn’t tell them the actual method, or how the victims’ bodies end up back in their world.

“So the fog is related after all,” Jisung muses. “Looks like you were right, hyung.”

“What’s ‘hyung’?” Jeongin asks, bouncing around Jisung. “You keep saying that word.”

It’s such a strange question to hear from someone who’s speaking fluent Korean that it almost makes Minho laugh. To Jisung’s credit he takes it in stride, giving Jeongin an explanation like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“It’s an honorific,” he says. “Minho-hyung is older than me, so that’s why I call him that, to show respect. There’s other ones, too, like oppa, noona—”

“Jisung-oppa?” Jeongin asks innocently, and Minho is so busy laughing at Jisung’s red, sputtering face that he almost trips over his own feet.

“No!” Jisung says, “No, if you’re a guy and you’re talking to an older guy you call him ‘hyung’, okay? Call me ’Jisung-hyung’! Unless. Actually I don’t know if you are a guy, do binary genders even apply here? What do you identify as? And wait, how old are you, anyway? Are you older than me? Should _I_ be calling _you_ ‘hyung’?”

Jisung’s increasingly flustered expression is almost unbearably endearing. He flails around a lot when he gets embarrassed, and starts talking even faster than usual. It’s really not good for Minho’s heart, especially in combination with the adorably confused look on Jeongin’s face.

“I’m a boy,” Jeongin says, sounding very sure of himself only to immediately waver. “I think? And I don’t know how old I am.”

He looks a bit sad when he says it, which just makes Jisung panic even more.

“Oh! That’s not— I mean, it’s really not that important, don’t—”

Minho, deciding that it’s time to cut Jisung off before he can ramble on any longer, takes it upon himself to sort this out, eyeing Jeongin critically for a moment.

“You’re younger than us,” he says imperiously. “I’ve decided. Call both of us ‘hyung’ from now on.”

He nods to himself in satisfaction. That feels right. Jisung is giving him a disbelieving look, but Jeongin seems happy to know his place in the hierarchy of their strange, impromptu expedition.

“Minho-hyung! Jisung-hyung!” he cheers, and that’s the end of the discussion. He bounces ahead of them and further down the path.

Jisung stays rooted to the spot for another moment, eyes fixed on Minho, his head tilted.

“You’re really…” he starts, but trails off when Minho raises his eyebrows at him.

“What?” Minho demands.

Jisung snaps his mouth shut and shakes his head before huffing out a laugh.

“You’re really quite something, hyung,” he says, and Minho smirks, pleased.

“I am,” he agrees magnanimously.

“Minho-hyung! Jisung-hyung!” Jeongin calls impatiently, waving his paws at them. “Hurry up!”

“Yah, watch how you speak to your elders!” Minho calls back, and then he pulls Jisung with him to follow after Jeongin.

The glasses really do make it much easier to see their surroundings, so Minho notices the buildings in the distance a good while before they reach them. The atmosphere around them seems to get heavier the closer they get. Jeongin goes quiet, and Jisung seems tense, careful eyes checking behind them every couple of minutes as if to see if someone's following them.

As far as Minho can tell there's absolutely no one here but the three of them, but he does have to admit that something about this entire area creeps him out.

They walk along a road filled with shop fronts, though it's almost impossible to make out what kind of shops they're supposed to be. Minho isn't sure when it got so dark, but it must have happened so gradually that he didn't even notice. Weak light shines from a single street lamp, but it's like a spotlight on the door of the building Jeongin stops in front of.

The door is open, swaying slightly despite the complete lack of wind. Inside, darkness looms.

"This is the place," Jeongin says, and his voice is small. He steps back a bit, almost as if he wants to hide behind Minho and Jisung.

"Creepy," Jisung says, his eyes never leaving the door. "So this is where the last person died?"

"Yes," Jeongin answers. "Like I said, I tried to get to her before she went in, but I was too late."

He sounds so sad about it, so frustrated, that Minho isn't sure how to respond. Instead, he just reaches out to pat Jeongin's head gently.

Jisung throws him a sympathetic look, but then he turns to take a cautious step closer to the door.

"It's so dark," he complains, "You can't even see— fuck!"

There’s a blur of movement, too fast for Minho to keep up with, and _something_ comes barreling out of the open door. Jisung flinches back, but whatever it is bypasses him completely, instead heading straight for Minho.

“Watch out!” Jeongin yells as he dives out of the way, and Minho brings up Seungmin’s baseball bat on instinct, screwing his eyes shut and bracing against the impact.

It’s almost enough to send him sprawling, punching the air right of his lungs, and Minho has to blink a couple of times before he can orient himself again. Then he blinks again, because what his eyes are showing him can’t be right.

He isn’t quite sure how to describe the thing that attacked him and is now floating in mid-air, but the word that comes closest might just be ‘monster’.

It looks almost cartoonish in a way, though that doesn’t make it any less terrifying. A spherical, striped body with no limbs or any sort of features, except the big and terrifyingly human-looking mouth that takes up most of its surface, spread in a wide grin, a long, black tongue lolling out between pristine white teeth.

“Holy shit!” Jisung says, perfectly echoing Minho’s sentiment, but the monster pays Jisung no mind. It stays fixated on Minho, surging for him again, and this time he barely brings the baseball bat up in time to fend it off.

“Jeongin, what is that thing?” he calls out, not daring to take his eyes off it.

Jeongin’s answering voice sounds shrill in his ears. “It’s a Shadow! Watch out!”

Another surge, but this time Minho is able to evade it, slowly getting used to its speed and pattern of movement. His mind is whirring, desperately trying to figure out how to fight this thing. It seemed completely unfazed by the baseball bat, but he doesn’t think they could outrun it either, so the only thing he can do is keep trying.

He takes a deep breath, raises the bat into position, and then—

_I am thou._

_Thou art I._

Minho stumbles as the words boom inside his head. The entire world seems to tremble, or maybe that’s just him, gasping for breath as power courses through his body, building up pressure in his chest until it threatens to break him.

_The time has come._

_Call forth what is within._

It’s like all air is forced out of Minho’s lungs in an instant, and something else with it. There’s a card materializing in front of him, spinning in place, and Minho doesn’t even think. He reaches out to grasp it between his fingers, and then he crushes it with all his strength.

It shatters like glass, but the shards don't cut Minho’s skin. Instead, they burst into brilliant blue flames that engulf his hand, flickering without burning. Minho stares at them for a moment, utterly fascinated. He can breathe again, and his pulse feels calm and steady, and above else he finally knows what he needs to do now.

“Orpheus,” he calls out with a clear, strong voice, and above him his Persona bursts into existence.

It’s huge, just like he remembers it from his dream, but this time he can see it more clearly — the white, almost metallic sheen of its limbs, the red eyes, the harp-like shape of its torso. It should be imposing, but more than anything Minho feels reassured.

The Shadow is poised to strike again, barreling towards him, but this time Minho is ready. He swings the bat in his hands, and with the power of Orpheus behind him, the strike hits hard, sending the Shadow reeling.

For a brief, electrifying moment Minho can see Jisung’s shocked expression, wide eyes meeting his own, but then Jeongin is calling out to him and Minho forces himself to concentrate on the fight.

“Minho-hyung! This type of Shadow is weak against lightning!” Jeongin is saying, and Minho almost laughs in delight.

Instead, he focuses on Orpheus and breathes out a command that comes to him unbidden, like it was always there in his mind.

“Zio.”

Lightning flashes, so bright and beautiful that Minho can’t tear his eyes away from it, and when it strikes the Shadow it lets out an inhuman shriek of defeat, disappearing into nothing. The only things left behind are dark swirls of smoke that are whisked away by the wind and a pair of cards that almost flutter to the ground before Minho catches them.

They look different from any of the cards he’s seen before, but Minho doesn’t have much time to look at them before both Jisung and Jeongin rush over to him.

“Hyung, are you okay?” Jisung asks him frantically, his hands hovering around Minho like he doesn’t quite know what to do. Jeongin isn’t much better, clinging onto Minho’s arm and sniffling until tears threaten to fall.

“I’m okay,” Minho hurries to reassure them. He feels great, actually, though that might just be the adrenaline speaking.

“What even was that?” Jisung asks. “First that Shadow thing and then the other one? Was that a Shadow too? But you were controlling it, right? How did you do that?”

“Uh,” Minho says slowly, a bit taken aback by the sudden onslaught of questions. “No, I think that was my Persona? I summoned it, kinda, and it helped me fight off the Shadow.”

“That’s so cool!” Jisung says, and he’s practically vibrating with excitement now. Minho is getting dizzy just looking at him. “Hyung, do you think I can do that, too?”

Minho honestly has no idea, but he can’t even begin to think of an answer before another voice interrupts them.

“Why don’t you find out?”

For a moment Minho is just confused, because he thinks Jisung is the one who said it. Jisung jumps though, white as a sheet, and whirls around to look at the shop behind them. Or rather, at the figure that just stepped out of the darkness inside.

It’s Jisung. But Jisung is standing right in front of Minho, so it can’t be him. Minho gets a bad feeling as he looks between the two of them, trying to figure out what the hell is going on. Both of them look exactly the same at first glance — the same hair, the same clothes, the same features — except Minho’s Jisung, the one standing right next to him, is looking horrified.

The other Jisung is the exact opposite, an unsettling sneer on his face, and now that Minho pays closer attention to him, he can tell that his eyes glow yellow.

Jeongin squeaks and hides behind Minho as the figure moves closer, and Jisung swallows audibly before he asks, “Who the hell are you?”

He’s trying to sound brave, Minho thinks, but it’s not very convincing. Making up his mind, Minho reaches out to grab his Jisung’s hand and pull him back, stepping in front of him and Jeongin both as the other Jisung stops some distance away from them.

“Oh, Jisung,” he sighs, so mocking and insincere that it makes Minho’s hair stand on end. “I’m you, obviously. You know, you talk a big game but really can’t back it up, huh? What happened to all that attitude? Rushing in here all gung-ho to solve a murder, but the moment things get rough you’re hiding behind your hyung.”

Yellow eyes narrow as he clicks his tongue, and Minho has half a mind to just grab Jeongin and Jisung and run, get out of here, get them away from whatever creature is wearing Jisung’s face and speaking in his voice. It’s like he’s rooted to the spot though, his legs refusing to move.

“Honestly, how callous can you be?” the other Jisung goes on, mouth twisting. “People are dead, and here you are treating this like an adventure. Like a puzzle you can solve to impress your new friend.”

Minho can feel his Jisung tensing up where their shoulders are pressed together, and then he’s stepping forward before Minho can tell him to stay put.

“That’s not true,” he says, hands clenched at his side and chin held high even as his voice trembles. “That’s not why I came here.”

“Oh?” the other Jisung says, feigning surprise. “You really think so? How cute. How _delusional_. Come on, face it, you put on a good show of being happy, but you’re bored to death in this goddamn backwater town. Nothing exciting ever happens here, but those serial murders? Oh my! Now that’s something! You’re just like those people crowding the police line, salivating at the thought of seeing a dead body.”

He laughs then, a sharp and ugly sound that echoes strangely throughout the street. “Honestly, these people’s deaths are just the perfect excuse for you to play at being a hero! Isn’t this it? Your chance to prove that you’re meant for greater things? You’re so desperate for approval that you’ll gladly step over their bodies if it means anyone will see you as _worthy_ , aren’t you.”

“Stop it!” the real Jisung says, clearly agitated, and Minho startles at the rawness of his voice. “Why are you doing this? Who the hell are you?”

The other Jisung sighs, shaking his head. “Come on, weren’t you listening? I already told you. I am you. I am your Shadow. There’s nothing I don’t know about you. So hey,” he says, and his tone turns deceptively sweet, “It’s okay. You can just admit that what I said is the truth.”

“You can’t be me,” Jisung says, and he’s shaking now, and Minho is screaming at himself to just go, do anything, _help him_ , but all he can do is stand there, clinging onto Jeongin, both of them frozen in place.

“Mmh, say that again,” the other Jisung says, gleeful, and it sets off alarm bells in Minho’s head. What the hell is going on here?

“You're not me!” Jisung screams, and the moment the words leave his mouth there’s a sudden gust of wind so strong that it sends him flying, knocking him back against the streetlight with a sickening crunch that has Minho heart sinking to his stomach.

“Jisung!” he calls out, finally in control of his voice again, and he rushes over to where Jisung now lies crumpled on the pavement, Jeongin fast on his heels.

“Hyung!” Jeongin cries, his paws pushing weakly at Jisung, who remains scarily unresponsive. “Hyung, wake up!”

Minho rolls Jisung over onto his back, checking his breathing — going strong, thank god — and then his head for any sign of trauma. He doesn’t see any blood, but Jisung is clearly unconscious, and Minho tries to remember what you’re supposed to do in a case like this, but he can’t think, not with the panic and fury clouding his mind.

“That’s right,” the other Jisung says from behind him, “I don’t have to be you anymore. I can be me now. I am a Shadow. The true self!”

Minho twists to look back at— at Jisung’s Shadow, whatever that’s supposed to mean, and he wants to yell and scream and demand to know what it’s done to Jisung, but all words get stuck in his throat.

The Shadow is still wearing Jisung’s face but it’s shifting, somehow. There’s black tendrils of smoke being whisked away by the wind that seems to be whirling around the Shadow like a tornado, but it looks entirely unaffected, standing still in the eye of the storm. Orange hair loses its colour as it grows and grows, a mess of white strands whipping around a body that's stretching and twisting and looking less human by the second, until Minho is facing a monster five times his size, floating in midair.

He watches with something like horrified fascination as two pale horns grow out of its head, but then it opens its maw, and he flinches at the laugh that comes out of it, distorted and wrong but somehow still recognizably Jisung's.

"Out of my way," it says, gleeful, and Minho feels a shiver run down his back as glowing yellow eyes focus on him.

Beside him, Jeongin is trembling. "Hyung," he whispers, high and full of panic. "What do we do?"

Minho squares his shoulder and grips the baseball bat with both hands as he stands up, positioning himself between the Shadow and Jisung's prone form.

"Jeongin-ah," he says, projecting as much calm as he can muster. "Before you knew the other Shadow's weak spot, right? What about this one?"

"I don't know," Jeongin says helplessly, but then he hesitates. "Maybe if I watch it for a while I can figure it out?"

Minho nods, even though his gaze is still firmly locked on the threat in front of them. "Just try, alright? And watch Jisung."

Before Jeongin can answer Minho rushes forward, trying to catch the Shadow off guard. He has limited success because while the bat does make contact, it's a glancing hit at most: the Shadow glides out of the way with a mocking laugh.

There's a big fan in its hand, with sharp-looking edges that come dangerously close to Minho's throat when the Shadow swipes at him. Minho curses, stumbling back and trying his damndest not to lose his balance, but it's proving to be a bit more difficult than he thought. There's power in his body but it feels foreign, unwieldy, like his center of gravity is off just slightly.

"Work with me here," he grits through his teeth, trying to repeat what he had done so easily during his earlier fight against the smaller Shadow. He manages to concentrate long enough to summon the blue card back to his hand, but before he can crush it Jisung's Shadow is back on the offensive, and Minho is too busy diving out of the way to keep his focus.

He staggers a bit as he tries his best to stay upright, both hands clenching on the handle of the baseball bat. He isn’t used to the weight of it, and for a moment he wishes he had a different kind of weapon. Then again, maybe he should be happy that he has one at all.

He adjusts his grip, lets his weight rest on the balls of his feet, and the next time the Shadow surges for him he’s ready, ducking underneath the fan and swinging up, up, _up_ , and if he had any breath left in him he would let out a sigh of relief when the bat makes contact, strong enough to make the Shadow scream.

“How dare you,” it seethes, retreating just a bit as frenzied gusts of wind move around them, tearing at Minho’s hair and clothes. But Minho has had enough of the Shadow’s bullshit, so he clenches his teeth and rushes forward before it can say anything else.

The concept of time eludes him as his focus narrows in on the fight, some sort of innate survival instinct taking over and locking him in tunnel vision. Maybe hours pass as he and the Shadow trade blows, or maybe it's mere seconds, but at some point Minho realizes that he’s slowly gaining the upper hand.

His arms are trembling from the strain, however, and his breath is coming harder now, so he needs to put an end to this before his body gives out on him. He gauges the Shadow’s movements, looks for an opening, and when he finds it, he puts all that remains of his strength into one swing, sending the Shadow flying into one of the store fronts.

It’s not the blow that is going to end this fight, but it gives Minho enough time to once again try and channel the power rushing through his veins. He thrusts one hand out in front of him, and the blue card appears in an instant, thrumming with energy.

Minho doesn’t even think. He crushes the card in his fist, feeling electricity exploding through him, around him, and he uses every last bit of power left in his body to channel all of it into one point.

“Zio!” he screams, loud enough that he can hear himself over the roaring in his ears, and yet the scream the Shadow lets out when the attack hits it drowns out every other sound.

It writhes, thrashing wildly, and the wind picks up one last time, but as he watches the Shadow shift and shrink in size Minho knows it’s over.

"Finally," he says, sinking to one knee and trying to catch his breath.

"Hyung, hyung!" Jeongin's voice comes from behind him, and when Minho turns he sees Jeongin running towards him with almost comically big tears at the corners of his eyes, a pale-faced but conscious Jisung on his heels.

"Jisung-ah, are you okay?" Minho asks, and he tries to stand back up, but his legs feel like jelly and he ends up right back on the ground.

"I'm alright," Jisung says, though it's not all that convincing. His eyes are locked on the form of his Shadow, now back to looking like a creepy mirror version of Jisung. It's just standing there, waiting.

"That's...me?" Jisung says to himself, barely louder than a whisper, and he looks like he's about to throw up, or cry, or maybe both. "No, that can't be."

The Shadow shifts minutely, tilting its head, and even though it stays still, Minho is instantly alarmed.

"Jisung, hey," he says quickly, reaching out for Jisung's hand. It's enough to make Jisung look at him, at least.

'I know it's hard,' he wants to say, but that's not true, so he stops himself and reconsiders.

"I can't imagine what it feels like to face this," he says instead. "But this Shadow is a part of you."

"If you don't accept it it's going to go berserk again," Jeongin says, clinging onto Jisung's shirt and looking up at him with a pleading expression on his face.

Jisung looks at them in turn, and then he looks at his Shadow, and his face just kind of crumples. His fingers are tight around Minho's as he closes his eyes for a long second, and Minho lets him. He's still wary of the Shadow, but if Jisung needs a moment to collect himself, then so be it.

Finally, Jisung takes a deep breath and pulls himself back together, squeezing Minho's hand one last time before he lets go.

"Alright," Jisung says, opening his eyes and taking a step towards the Shadow that's still waiting patiently.

Minho has half a mind to pull him back again, an overwhelming urge to get between Jisung and the still present danger, but Jisung needs to do this himself. Besides, Minho isn’t in any condition to protect him right now, as weak and exhausted as he feels.

“I…” Jisung starts, hesitating as he comes to a stop in front of his mirror image, one hand coming up as if he wants to reach out, only for him to drop it again.

“It hurts to face yourself,” is what he says in the end, so quietly that Minho has to strain to hear it. But then he squares his shoulders and raises his voice, every word coming out stronger and steadier than before. “But I know it wasn’t lying. This...All of this is me.”

He does reach out then, resting his hands on his Shadow’s shoulders, and Minho can’t see his face, but there’s no hesitation left in Jisung’s voice as he speaks again.

“I’m you. You’re me.”

And finally, the Shadow smiles. A real smile, soft and open, and then there's a flash of light and a gentle, refreshing gust of wind. When Minho blinks his eyes open again, the Persona is floating in the air in front of them in all its splendor, wings spread wide as it roars, a sound at once triumphant and exhilarating.

"Fei Lian," Jisung says faintly, "My Persona."

In the blink of an eye, the Persona disappears, leaving behind nothing but a gentle light that sinks into Jisung’s chest, illuminating his whole body for a brief moment before it fades away. Jisung doesn't acknowledge it beyond a sharp inhale, and then he’s swaying, barely able to stand upright, and Minho ignores the way his muscles scream at him in favour of rushing forward to Jisung’s side, catching him before he can fall

“Jisung, hey,” he says, taking in the way Jisung is struggling to keep his eyes open. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Jisung mumbles, “Yeah, I’m okay. Probably.”

That doesn’t sound particularly convincing, but Minho will take it. He takes one of Jisung’s arms and slings it over his shoulder, putting one of his own around Jisung’s waist, and it’s a bit of a struggle, but then Jeongin is there to steady them both.

“I’m sorry I was no help,” Jeongin says meekly, even as he's letting Minho rest some of Jisung’s weight on him. “I wanted to figure out the Shadow’s weakness, but—”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Minho cuts him off. “It worked out in the end, right?”

“I guess,” Jeongin says, but he still sounds miserable. “I don’t even know how this could happen. The Shadows usually leave people from your world alone at first.”

Minho frowns at that, thinking back on his first fight of the night. “Well, the first one didn't attack Jisung either, just me. Maybe because I have a Persona?”

“Yeah, what was up with that. I didn’t even get to use the knife,” Jisung jokes weakly, and Minho chokes out a laugh.

“Probably for the best,” he says, pulling Jisung more securely into his side. “Wouldn’t want you to accidentally stab yourself.”

Jisung doesn’t even protest, just hums against Minho’s shoulder, and Minho exchanges a worried look with Jeongin before he gets them moving, picking up the pace as much as he can while dragging Jisung along.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says, and Jeongin nods, hurrying ahead to lead the way.

They've almost made it to the exit when the world tilts. It reminds Minho of the sudden feeling of falling when you're lying in bed, half-asleep — a strange sort of lurch that has his heart in his throat.

When he regains his footing, he can no longer see the fog-covered expanse of the TV world. His eyes widen at the familiar blue light, the opulent furniture, and—

"Welcome to the Velvet Room."

Ah. There he is.

"Do you have to say that every time?" Minho asks. "Like, are you contractually obligated?"

Chris laughs from where he's seated in his ridiculously large armchair. Minho glares at him, but then he realizes that they're the only two people in the room.

"Jisung?" he calls out in a panic, whirling around. "Jeongin? Where are they?" he demands, furious in the face of Chris's utter lack of concern.

Jisung is injured and Minho needs to get him back into the real world as soon as possible, he doesn't have time for more cryptic bullshit from a guy who Minho, until very recently, thought was nothing but a figment of his imagination.

"Don't worry," Chris says, "Your friends are fine. Time moves differently here. When you get back, they won't even realize you've been gone at all."

Minho doesn’t feel particularly reassured by that. He almost growls in frustration when he double-checks his surroundings and comes up empty, the ornate blue door nowhere to be seen. It seems like the only one who can tell him how to leave this room is Chris.

“Alright,” Minho says, “What do you want?”

Chris smiles, because that’s apparently all he ever does, and gestures at the couch across from him.

“Come on, sit.”

Minho considers refusing, but relents eventually, with a very loud and very pointed sigh. Still, the sooner they get this over with, the better.

"They're okay," Chris says again, more gently this time. "I swear it. You'll be back with them in a moment. I apologize for calling you here so suddenly, but it's much easier for me to reach you while you're in this world."

Minho frowns. "Then what about last time? I wasn't in the TV then."

"I didn't say it's impossible," Chris points out. "Just a bit more difficult. I can call you when you're in an inbetween state, when you're asleep and dreaming. It makes you less aware though, and I got the impression that you didn't much like the feeling of that."

Now that he thinks about it, Minho does feel much more in control of his own body and emotions than on his first visit. The fact that Chris noticed and took care to make him more comfortable takes some of the heat out of Minho's anger.

"In any case, things will be much easier now that you have made a contract," Chris continues. "You have heard the call to awaken, and you chose to follow destiny. You have come into your power, Minho. Everything has been set into motion."

The words have weight behind them, and Minho feels an involuntary shiver go through his body. "A contract? You mean Orpheus?"

"Your Persona, yes," Chris says.

"What does that—" Minho says, and then stops, unsure how to phrase his question. "I mean, I know Orpheus is a Persona. But what does that actually mean?"

"The Persona you acquired is a part of you, a facade that will help you face difficulties that lie ahead. To put it in simpler terms, you can use its powers to fight your adversaries in this world, and the more you do, the stronger it will become."

Chris leans forward then, unnervingly yellow eyes looking straight at Minho.

"Usually there are limits. Your friend, for example, will only be able to use his own Persona. But you, Minho? You're a wild card."

"A wild card?" Minho repeats unwillingly.

"A wild card is something very special," Chris says. "You have within you infinite potential, the power to hold and use multiple Personas. Defeating Shadows will sometimes grant you the opportunity to gain new Personas, as you have already seen today. They all have different strengths and weaknesses, so it would be wise to acquire as many as possible."

Minho frowns, his mind on the cards that materialized earlier, after he defeated the Shadows that attacked them.

"So you're saying," he says slowly, "That I gotta catch 'em all?"

Minho could swear he sees Chris's lips twitch at that, but maybe it's just the light. If he gets the reference, he doesn't show it. Instead he waves a hand off to the side and summons a heavy book out of thin air, laying it down on the table between them.

"You don't have to," Chris demurs, "But it's in your own interest. That said, carrying too many Personas within you could prove to be a heavy strain. That's where the compendium comes in."

He pats the book in front of him, its dark blue cover interspersed with lines of gold.

"Usually the Attendant is in charge of the compendium, but for now I'll take care of it."

Minho's head shoots up at that, searching Chris’s face. The Attendant, that's what he called Felix when they introduced themselves, wasn't it? Does that mean Felix really is involved in this? But before he can even think to ask, Chris speaks again.

"The compendium is used to hold onto Personas that you do not currently need, and it makes it possible for you to summon them at any time. All you need to do is come visit the Velvet Room. But that's not the only service we provide."

Chris winks, and Minho resists the urge to roll his eyes, instead gesturing for Chris to go on. The worry for Jisung and Jeongin is a constant pressure on his mind and he wants to get back to them as quickly as possible.

"My power is the creation of new Personas by way of fusion," Chris explains, snapping his fingers. The cards that Minho received after his earlier fight manifest out of nowhere, dancing over Chris's open palm. Then, with a flash and a sound that makes Minho jump, they combine into one.

Minho grabs it, scrutinizing the Persona it now displays — it's definitely different from what the two cards showed before.

"If you bring me multiple cards I can create more powerful, high-level Personas that you might not find in the wild, so to speak. Just keep that in mind for the future," Chris says, and then he pulls something out of the inside of his jacket. "Now, I don't want to keep you too much longer. There's just one last thing."

He holds out a key towards Minho. It's dark blue, because of course it is, and when he takes it, it’s weirdly warm in his hand. Not unpleasantly so, but still strange. Minho can’t shake the feeling of deja-vu it gives him.

"This is your key, allowing you access to the Velvet Room whenever you need it. I'll make sure to place a permanent connection in the TV world, but there are doors in the regular world as well. I'm sure you'll find them soon enough."

"Right," Minho says skeptically. "So no more surprise summonings?"

"I won't call you here unless absolutely necessary," Chris says, which is not the answer Minho was looking for. He clicks his tongue in annoyance. Chris just smiles beatifically.

"I'll let you get back to your friends then," he says, gesturing to the far wall, and when Minho turns around, there's a door that definitely wasn't there before. Finally.

Minho jumps up, pocketing the key, and he's almost halfway across the room before he stills and turns back to Chris.

"Thanks, I guess," he says, grimacing, and Chris laughs.

"You're very welcome."

The moment he steps through the door, Minho finds himself in the exact same position he was in moments earlier, as if nothing had happened. Jisung is still leaning heavily on his shoulder, his breath unsteady and harsh in Minho’s ear.

“We’re almost there,” Jeongin says, throwing worried glances back at Jisung every couple seconds as he walks ahead of them. Minho is incredibly relieved to have Jeongin as their guide, because there is no way they would have found their way back here without him. Everything looks the same in this world, shrouded in ever-present fog, and he doesn’t even notice the TV until they all but run into it.

“Finally,” he breathes out, and Jisung relaxes against him in a clear echo of the sentiment.

Jeongin gives the TV a couple smacks until it sputters into life, static flickering across the screen with the audible hum of electricity. Not that it’s actually plugged into anything that could provide it with electricity, but Minho doesn’t have the time to think about the logistics of this world right now.

Jeongin turns to them with worry written all over his face, and Minho can’t help but feel a surge of fondness for their strange new friend.

“Will he be okay?” Jeongin asks, and apparently Jisung is still aware enough to take offense at being talked about like he isn’t there, because he musters up a weak glare in Jeongin’s direction.

“I’m fine,” he mutters, but his voice sounds strained so Minho really doesn’t know who he’s trying to convince with that.

“He’ll be okay,” Minho says, readjusting Jisung’s arm over his shoulders. “Thank you, Jeongin. You really helped us out today.”

Jeongin shakes his head meekly. “No. I’m the one who should thank you. For coming back, and for taking on those Shadows. Without you, I…” he trails off, but then he seems to gather himself, facing Minho head on with surprising intensity.

“People from your world will keep ending up in here if we don’t stop this,” he says. “Promise me you’ll find the culprit?”

For a long moment, Minho just stares back at Jeongin. He can’t help but think about how this small, skittish creature is stuck all alone in a world full of monsters, desperate but powerless to stop the deaths of one person after another. There have been at least five victims so far, and Jeongin must have borne witness to all of them.

Minho swallows past the lump in his throat, tightening his hold on Jisung’s waist. They’re just a bunch of teenagers. This is so far out of their depth it’s not even funny, and there is no way they can shoulder this responsibility by themselves. Then again, who else is there? They can’t go to the police with stories of people murdered via household electronics, because no one besides Minho and the victims even seems capable of entering this world. No one else has the power of Personas on their side to allow them to actually survive in here.

Looking at Jeongin’s earnest expression, Minho feels something like resolve growing within himself.

“Alright,” he says with a heavy exhale. “Alright, I promise you. Whoever is responsible for this, we’ll find them.”

Jeongin’s face lights up, but Minho doesn’t hear what he says next, because that goddamn stabbing pain in his chest returns with a vengeance, almost sending him toppling to the floor. He blinks furiously against visions of a blue card with a gold star at its center as he tries to regain his sense of balance, made more difficult by Jisung’s heavy, uncoordinated limbs.

“Okay, time to go,” he forces out through gritted teeth, shifting to half carry, half push Jisung through the TV. He only pauses long enough to lock eyes with Jeongin once again. “Stay safe, Jeongin-ah. Until next time.”

“Until next time, hyung,” Jeongin says seriously, and then he fades from view as Minho lets himself fall forward through the screen.

Seungmin jumps up from where he’d been sitting on the old futon the moment Minho and Jisung arrive back in the real world in a tangle of limbs, rushing forward to look them over.

“Are you alright? What happened?” he asks, but Minho is a bit preoccupied with fretting over Jisung, trying to pull him up and off the floor.

It works for all of five seconds before Jisung’s eyes roll back in his head. Minho curses loudly, barely catching him before he falls.

“Jisung,” he says, “Jisung-ah, hey, you need to stay awake.”

It’s no use. Jisung is dead weight in his arms, and Minho turns panicked eyes on Seungmin.

“He hit his head really bad, what if he got a concussion? Is there a hospital, or…” he trails off, biting his lip. No, a hospital won’t do. Minho is still upright so far, but he’s pretty banged up, clothes torn, and any medical professional would ask questions he doesn't want to answer. Maybe if Seungmin took Jisung by himself? Minho doesn’t really want to leave them, though.

Luckily, Seungmin has a solution. “There’s this place. They might not ask too many questions. It’s kind of shady, but I heard about it from Sohee-noona, so it’s probably safe.”

He doesn’t sound 100% sure about that, but it’s not like they have any other option, really. So Minho nods and shifts Jisung’s arms around his shoulders.

“Help me get him on my back,” Minho says, and Seungmin hurries to help him. Jisung isn’t that heavy, but since he’s unresponsive it takes a lot of effort to arrange him securely. They’re both panting and out of breath, and Minho is really starting to feel the exhaustion settling deep in his bones. But he adjusts his grip under Jisung’s thighs and nods at Seungmin.

"Are you sure you don't want me to take him?" Seungmin asks, clearly worried, but Minho shakes his head almost violently. The need to do something, to hold onto Jisung, is almost overwhelming.

“I'm fine. Just lead the way.”

It takes them forever to get to the clinic, taking empty backstreets to avoid running into people, and Minho almost collapses a couple of times. Seungmin grabs his shoulders each time, looking terrified but determined, telling him to _breathe, Minho-hyung, we’re almost there_.

The building is old and unassuming, only a small sign at the door declaring it the office of Dr. Lee Sunmi. Vaguely, Minho registers what looks like a pharmacy next door, but he can’t really focus on anything but staying upright and not dropping Jisung. Seungmin is banging on the door after finding it closed, shooting concerned looks back at Minho and their surroundings.

He’s just about to start another round of hammering at the door when it opens, revealing a woman with long black hair and a calm smile on her face, like she isn’t bothered at all by the ruckus.

“There’s a bell,” she points out calmly.

Seungmin follows the wave of her hand to the doorbell and blushes, hurrying to apologize, but before he can even start stuttering out excuses the woman focuses on Minho and Jisung.

Minho, despite his exhaustion, tenses instantly. There’s something in the woman’s eyes — the way that she stares at them without blinking, the politely pleasant but unsettling smile on her face — that makes her look otherworldly.

"Come on in," she says, "We've been expecting you."

It’s not exactly a reassuring thing to hear from a woman he’s never seen in his life, but they have no time to question it. Jisung is their priority right now and Minho is going to collapse too if he has to keep carrying him, so he does as he’s told.

Dr. Lee leads them through a small reception area and into a back room, where Seungmin helps Minho with depositing Jisung on an examination table. Then Minho sinks into a nearby chair, shaking from strain and exhaustion.

He’s so out of it that he doesn’t even realize there’s another person in the room until they thrust a cup of tea into his hands. “Here,” someone says, and Minho looks up to see a woman with shoulder-length hair and a kind smile standing in front of him.

“Drink this. It’s good for you.”

“Thank you,” Minho mumbles, but the woman is already moving on, walking over to where Dr. Lee is examining Jisung. He watches her exchange a few words first with the doctor and then with Seungmin before she disappears into the hallway.

Minho stares after her, taking small sips of his tea and trying to keep himself awake. He’s moderately successful, never fully slipping under, but he must zone out for some amount of time because the next thing he realizes is Seungmin crouching down in front of him and gently taking the tea cup out of his hands, setting it aside.

“Hey there hyung,” he says, voice barely above a whisper, and he waits until Minho’s eyes focus on him to go on. “I’m gonna patch you up now, okay?”

He holds up a first aid kit and Minho nods sluggishly, trying to work through the haze in his mind.

“What about Sungie?” he mumbles.

“Dr. Lee is looking after him,” Seungmin tells him. “He’ll be alright. Do you think you’re up for telling me what happened now?”

Minho takes a deep breath and exhales steadily before he nods, because he’s as ready as he’ll ever be.

They stay like that, Seungmin cleaning up Minho’s cuts and bruises while Minho recounts the events of their night. Seungmin doesn’t ask any questions, just lets him talk, and Minho appreciates it more than he could ever say. There will be a time for discussing and analyzing what they learned, but it’s not tonight.

He talks until his throat feels dry, and then he drinks the last of his cold tea and goes to sit by Jisung’s bedside. Dr. Lee had left the room at some point after exchanging a couple reassuring words with Seungmin, so it’s just the three of them now. Minho takes a long moment to take in the sight of Jisung, who looks like he’s just sleeping peacefully, cleaned up and without so much as a bandage on him.

Feeling the last traces of tension leaving his body, Minho stares out into the darkness beyond the window, weary with bone-deep exhaustion.

"What time is it?" he asks, keeping his voice quiet so as not to disturb Jisung.

"It's getting pretty late," Seungmin says, "But it's alright. Jihyo-noona told Sohee-noona that we're staying at her place for dinner." When Minho gives him a questioning look he clarifies, "The woman who gave you the tea."

"You know her?"

“It’s a small town,” Seungmin says, and it’s explanation enough. “She lives next door, above the pharmacy.”

"And what about his parents?" Minho asks, nodding in Jisung's direction.

"It's taken care of," someone says from the doorway, and when Minho looks up he sees Jihyo standing there.

"Thank you, noona," Seungmin says quietly. "I don't know what we would have done without you and Dr. Lee."

Jihyo gives him a fond smile. "You're very welcome. I'm glad you found your way here. Now, would you two please come with me?"

Minho frowns at that. "But what about—"

"Jisung will be fine," Jihyo says. "And I promise it won't take long."

Minho doesn't feel particularly reassured, but Seungmin gets up and pulls Minho with him.

"Come on, hyung," he coaxes, "Dr. Lee said he'll be asleep for a while longer, anyway."

Minho is still reluctant to leave Jisung's side, but he lets himself be pulled along anyway. Jihyo leads them out of the examination room and then outside the building entirely, the three of them making their way over to the dark storefront of the neighboring pharmacy.

"Follow me," Jihyo says, opening the door after disabling three different locks, and Minho exchanges an uneasy look with Seungmin before they do as they're told.

Jihyo leads them through the shelves of the pharmacy, illuminated only by the streetlight filtering in through the storefront. Past the counter, there's an unassuming door that looks like it might lead to an office, or maybe a storage room.

And maybe one could call it a storage room of sorts, Minho thinks when they step inside. It's just that he's never seen one storing weapons.

"What the—" Seungmin gasps, and Minho shares the sentiment.

The room is bigger than he would have expected, and it’s covered wall to wall with what appear to be mostly melee weapons. Some look antique, some seem ornamental, but Minho can’t help but feel like all of them are deadly.

He steps forward slowly, his gaze catching on a row of shelves stocked with heavy black suitcases, and he can hear Seungmin muttering under his breath behind him. Jihyo shoots them an amused smile over her shoulder as she makes her way to the center of the room.

"Channie said you might come by," she says, and Minho frowns. That name sounds familiar, somehow.

Seungmin barely seems to hear her, too distracted by the display in front of them, and Jihyo keeps talking before Minho can ask any questions.

"Do me a favor and don't mention any of this your cousin, will you," she says. "Wouldn't want the poor woman to have a heart attack."

"So this is illegal?" Minho asks, but all he gets in return is an unimpressed look from Jihyo.

"Obviously," Seungmin mutters, wandering away to inspect a massive sword mounted on the wall. It looks like it belongs in a museum, not in a secret weapons cache hidden in a small town pharmacy.

"Are you in the mob?" Minho asks, because he feels like that's the logical conclusion.

"Hyung!" Seungmin hisses, turning back to glare at him. "You can't just go around asking people if they're in the mob—"

He breaks off with a strangled sound when Jihyo takes a massive halberd off its mounting on the wall, eyeing it critically.

"No," she says, and Minho swears he can see the corners of her mouth twitching upwards. "I guess you could call me a collector."

A moment of silence passes between them before she puts the halberd back without even the barest sign of a struggle. Minho eyes her arms with a faint sense of incredulity.

“Now,” she says, moving to lean her hip against the large workbench that takes up the center of the room. “A little bird told me that you might be in need of some firepower and as long as you don’t swing these around where innocent people could get hurt, I’m not going to ask any questions. Just as you aren’t going to ask any questions about where any of these come from, alright?”

“Noona…” Seungmin sounds a bit strangled, but Jihyo shuts him up with a deceptively pleasant smile.

"Now, let's see. Do either of you have any preferences? Don't worry if nothing comes to mind, I'll help you figure it out."

Minho's hands flex at the sudden memory of leather-wrapped metal digging into his skin, a sensation he has only ever experienced inside a dream. He looks around the room and, as if drawn straight to them, his eyes catch on two swords — brown leather hilts, golden guards and red tassels. Deja-vu.

"Those," Minho says, pointing right at them, and Jihyo nods approvingly.

"Good choice," she says, collecting them from their display mount and laying them out on the table top.

Minho continues looking around the room, not really sure what he's searching for. His attention lingers on a three-pronged spear, smaller than some of the other staff weapons on display but beautifully ornate. Looking at it gives him a strange, nagging feeling at the back of his mind, like there's something he forgot.

He shakes his head to dismiss it, and then he finds himself looking at something else instead: a simple set of three knives, with slim handles and no guards. He thinks they might be throwing knives.

"For Jisung?" Jihyo asks, startling Minho out of his thoughts. "Good choice."

He stares at her, bewildered, but now that she mentions it, it seems like a good idea. Jisung is obviously going to need proper weapons as well, so they might as well get some for him now.

He might be a bit miffed about not being able to choose them himself but somehow, looking at the knives Jihyo is now taking out of their glass case, Minho doubts it.

"Seungmin, what about you?" Jihyo asks over her shoulder and Seungmin just looks at her, uncomprehending, until he gets what she means. Then his eyes widen and he quickly shakes his head.

"What? No, I don't need anything. I'm good."

"No need to be shy," Jihyo says, giving him a critical once over before she nods to herself and walks towards a cabinet, pulling open a big drawer and rummaging around until she finds what she's looking for.

"There we go. How about this?" she asks, holding up a sleek, gray gun.

Seungmin’s eyes somehow get even wider.

"What the hell? No!"

"We'll take it," Minho says, and Seungmin whips his head around to fix Minho with an incredulous look.

"Hyung, you can't seriously be considering buying a gun!" he sputters.

"Oh, good point," Minho says, snapping his fingers, and for a second Seungmin seems relieved. But then Minho continues with, "How much are all of these? I'm not sure if I have enough money on me."

"Hyung!" Seungmin says again, but Minho ignores his protests.

"Oh, don't worry about it," Jihyo says cheerfully, waving him off. "The first bunch is on the house. I'll have to charge you in the future, but if you happen to find any _interesting_ materials or the like, I'm sure we can work out a trade."

The emphasis she put on her words almost makes Minho want to ask her just how much she knows about what they need these weapons for, but in the end, he holds back the question. Jihyo and Dr. Lee might know about the TV world, or they might just be in the business of dealing with shady people. He'll leave them their plausible deniability either way.

"Thank you, Jihyo-ssi," he says instead, accepting the bundle of weapons she packs for them.

"You're very welcome," she says with a wink. "Make sure to come back soon."

Seungmin is obviously displeased about their little shopping trip but between the lingering exhaustion and worrying about Jisung, it's easy enough for Minho to ignore him.

It's another hour until Jisung starts stirring, and then they're ushered out of the room so Dr. Lee can examine him in private, so Minho ends up pacing the hallway outside; Seungmin slumped against the wall as he sits cross-legged on the floor.

They both perk up when the door finally opens again and Minho feels his entire body go slack with relief when he sees Jisung stepping out behind Dr. Lee, a bit unsteady still but walking on his own.

“Jisung-ah,” Minho says, rushing forward to his side, and he’s rewarded with a shaky smile from Jisung.

“Hyung, hey,” he says, voice small. “Sorry for making you worry.”

“You’d better be,” Minho says, but there’s no bite to it.

“Are you alright?” Seungmin pipes up then, standing behind Minho and looking like he’s torn between checking on Jisung himself or keeping his distance. It’s awkward, and one day Minho really is going to need to figure out what the deal between these two is, but right now they have more pressing concerns.

“He’s fine. There might be some bruising, and he should come back to see me in a couple of days, but for now all he needs is plenty of rest.” It’s Dr. Lee who answers the question in Jisung’s stead, looking at the three of them with that eerie unblinking expression of hers. “If you run into any trouble in the future, you’re welcome here anytime. But it’s getting late, so I’d suggest you call it a night, yes?”

“Of course,” Seungmin says quickly, bowing to her. “Thank you for your help.”

Minho does the same, murmuring his thanks, and then he puts a bracing arm around Jisung’s back.

“Come on,” he says, “Let’s get you home.”

Hours later, when Minho is already half asleep in his bed, realization hits him. He shoots up and scrambles for his phone, wincing when the light of the screen hits his sensitive eyes.

Room 0325. Something or someone wants him to go in there so bad, and then there's Jihyo's words from earlier that night.

"Channie?" he repeats under his breath, incredulous.

It might just be a coincidence. But somehow he seriously doubts that.

Clumsy fingers finally hit Changbin's contact after three tries, and then all that's left to do is send him a message.

_so about that appointment_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Kim Seungmin more like "what if Nanako was older and playable and HAD A GUN" 
> 
> \- I spent many hours on the Megami Tensei wiki but played fast and loose with the Personas and skills, so don’t fact-check me on that. Case in point: Fei Lian isn't in any of the games but comes from Chinese mythology: a wind god taking the form of a dragon with wings, the head of a deer and the tail of a snake.
> 
> \- Hey you ever think about those 2 Kids Room episodes where Changbin seems genuinely distressed about coming across as angry/cold because I sure do!!!
> 
> Coming up next time: the most galaxy brain casting choice of them all. Please look forward to it~ ❤️


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